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Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. evil)

— the bad —

Me and my husband, we’re sticking together — Me and My Husband // Mitski

We’ve explored the ‘good’ of modern! Davos. But now it’s time to explore the bad.

cw — toxic behavior within relationships. Possessive behavior.

Davos is a gamer. And does have gamer rage. But it’s not the type where he’ll cool off after the game or where he’ll laugh about it. These fuckers are throwing his ranked games—they deserve the death penalty and to get doxxed AT LEAST. A bad night on league, csgo, or valorant has a chance of making him violently angry. It’s like you need to leave the room for safety type shit. He has punched his monitor, and he does punch walls. He snaps out of that behavior when he gets with you. Or tries to at least. He doesn’t want you to see that but you do, once in a while. He just can’t stand it! Idiots—idiots with keyboards in front of their fucking blind faces. Goddamn—not to mention you- … just—just get out! He’s fine just—! GET THE FUCK OUT! Close the fucking door behind you Jesus Christ—.. can’t do the simplest shit…

Temperamental. Almost to a startling level. The smallest thing can set him off sometimes, but that’s only if he’s already in a bad mood to begin with. Someone looking at you a little too long? He’ll glare at them, maybe even take an intimidating step toward them. On the road and some fucker’s going too slow? He will lay on the horn and curse them out. Once he did get out of the car to “deal” with “this jackass”. Someone wanted to fight? He’ll stand on business too don’t worry (he did win, but a win that didn’t make you feel good watching it). Laying a gentle hand on him cools him down a little, but what really stops him is the look of disbelief and fear on your face. What? He was just showing that guy what was up—you honestly think he’d kill someone? It looked like he would, are you dumb? That wasn’t even a full fight—don’t be stupid..

Don’t look at his Twitch dashboard. He will still follow people who’re ‘problematic’ or are just straight up cringe. Yes, there are also essentially naked egirl streamers too. Oh what? He can’t follow them? Why? They make good content, plus he was following them before he was with you. He doesn’t even watch them anymore! Don’t tell him you’re policing his media consuming now too—wha? No no! He didn’t mean it like that—

If you fight, he will not let you leave. He wants to settle whatever it is right then and there, no cooling off or whatever. It does stem from a good place somewhat; he doesn’t want to prolong the argument, or revisit it ever. So he wants to just figure out the solution right there. Which means he’ll do anything to stop you from leaving. This behavior makes the argument and situation much worse. Grabbing your wrist, pulling you toward him. Blocking the door… what? You wanna go? You can’t just walk off like that! You’re just ignoring the problem! He’s not letting you—Get back here!

Davos’s apologies… are technically sincere. He’s more so scared of being left alone, without you. So he’ll say anything to make you stay with him. Sweetened words, kisses against your skin and face. Spamming texts, repeated phone calls. You know he didn’t mean it! He’s just got an impulsive tongue, he says things he doesn’t mean. You know this already.. he’s trying to be better! Better for you! Won’t you come back? Please? He’s sorry, really. No take backs. He’ll be better this time around..

He is loyal. Which is good, but also that means he’s clingy. You could be the toxic one of the relationship, but he would stay regardless because of his unwavering commitment and love to/for you (and fear of being alone). He stands on business with you, whether if it’s your fault or not. If someone’s gonna swing at you, he’s gonna be there to take the blow and swing right back. But his devotion can turn suffocating, smothering. He needs you to respond to his texts and calls, he needs you to check in with him throughout the day. He’s loyal to you.. but how does he know you’re loyal to him..? He just missed you! ..you texted him ten minutes ago?—so what?? You’re his! he should know what’s going on with you. Plus he’s bored, can’t you do something with him? …you don’t have time for him? What?! Why?! …are you with someone right now—

That leads to this. He will absolutely be in your business. Where’re you going? Who’re you texting? Hey who was that? A guy friend? Hmmm he looks suspicious.. the way he smiled at you… maybe you should drop that friend. Davos doesn’t like his intentions. Yes, there are always intentions—why can’t you just listen to him for once? God didn’t you see the way that guy looking at you? Davos would be the type to get into a fist fight because he deems someone’s glance toward you as making a move. That fucker’s been staring at you the entire time you’ve been here! He had to do something. What if that guy had bad intentions hm? God—you just aren’t aware of things are you? ..he didn’t mean it like that c’mon now—

Returning back to his gaming habits.. Davos will ignore you if he is gaming. If you’re not someone who plays the same as him? You’re getting ignored for at least five hours or more at night. But if you are a gamer and you both play together? He’s the guy who “kindly” criticizes your every move. Backhanded comments, mansplaining basic gameplay mechanics. Yeah… he’s that guy. Hm.. he guesses that was a nice move. He would’ve made a different play that wasted less resources however. It was good enough he supposes. Do you even know how this mechanic works? You do? Oh.. well you act like you don’t understand the basic macro of the game—

The Dragon and The Raven Chapter 9 (Seasmoke)

Chapter Summary: Aemma discovers her mother is letting Dragonseeds start claiming dragons. She and Benjicot fly to Dragonstone. If someone is going to claim her father's dragon, she should try to see the person she thinks is worthy of Seasmoke. As they go to witness the people, Seasmoke decides to surprise them all.

Taglist: @callsignwidow @whimsicalmystic02 @mercedesdecorazon @rhaenyrathecruelwithteats

Tags: NSFW words, mentions of potential miscarriage.

Keep track of the story: masterlist

Aemma and Benji’s relationship slowly started to heal after their fight. Aemma always took the time to assure her husband of how attractive and loving he was towards her. Of course, Benjicot also took the initiative to reciprocate those actions. He missed her so much from their time separate. Every day, he would wake her with a kiss on her brow before getting ready for the day. Per the healer's orders, he would allow the princess to sleep in to ensure the princess would get enough rest to help their babe. 

Aemma was finally introduced to Kermit and Oscar Tully. The Tully brothers were awed by meeting the princess; words that described her beauty were unmatched by the real picture. As they expressed loyalty to her mother, Aemma noticed how the two young men tried but kept failing to ogle her. Benji also saw this, sending a glare to his friends, causing the boys to flush, stammer, apologize, and quickly leave. No one wanted to be the cause of Benjicot’s ire. 

“They are your friends, Ben,” whispered Aemma as she tried to console her husband. 

“Which is worse because they know I do not like it,” stated Benjicot, growing to hate how easily it was for him to get jealous. He knew his wife was gorgeous, and men would always stare, but that never meant he had to like it. 

Aemma sighed, knowing his feelings were valid, “Yes, in your defense, they probably should know better, but in their defense, they have no chance. Why would I want the attention of some other man when I have yours? Why should I care for another person’s attention when you provide all the attention I want? I carry your babe, not theirs, and you are the only one who makes my body and soul burn for you.” 

Feeling devious, she walked closer to her husband, pressing her body to him and whispering to his ear, “You are the only man who can make my thighs ache and wet for your cock. You are the only man who can satisfy a dragon, making her scream and shout your name. This whole camp knows my body belongs to you. Even now, my body wishes you would take me..” 

Aemma gasped as Benji's hungry kiss cut her off. As he raised her in his arms, he walked back into their tent, wishing to show the princess how much her pretty words had affected him. Aemma giggled and sighed, feeling his kisses on her neck; oh, how much she missed this. 

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As Benjicot left a satisfied princess sleeping, he walked towards the training ground, where he found Cregan Stark and his Aunt dueling. Benjicot could not help but notice how much time the two were spending together, wondering if he soon would have to speak with Lord Stark about doweries, knowing that he was technically in charge of any potential marriage regarding his aunt. As the pair noticed the young lord, they stopped and walked towards him. Aly asked for Aemma, to which Benjicot said the princess was sleeping. Aly nodded, stating that she would bathe before checking on her. Aly became very overprotective of the princess since their fight. 

As both men watched Aly Blackwood leave, Cregan glanced at Benjicot. 

“How is Aemma truly?” pondered Cregan as he began to polish his sword, not once removing his eyes from Benjicot. 

“She is getting better; her illness is finally relieved from her. Thank the gods,” stated Benji, feeling slightly nervous after seeing the piercing gaze the Wolf Lord gave to the lord of Raventree Hall.

Cregan nodded, “That’s good; she was looking a little frail, which worried me…” Cregan notices the slight frown on Benjicot’s face. 

He sighed. Hearing from Aly that Benjicot tended to be easily jealous, he needed to clarify before the lad thought anything. 

“I love Aemma as a sister. Jace and she endeared themselves to me when they went to the north, and they often reminded me of my own siblings. Seeing someone so fierce and happy as Aemma to be knocked down over a sudden illness just worried me. She barely had enough time to mourn Prince Lucerys, who I know was close to Aemma; I felt everything was going too fast. Nevertheless, I vouched for you when Jace was adamant not to accept you, so I was worried the “illness” was just an excuse and you two were having troubles.” explained Cregan Stark, trying to see any cracks in Benjicot’s face, but the young lord had a good poker face. 

In reality, on the inside, Benji wanted to scream, his guilt returning to him with the troubles he and Aemma were going through.  Benjicot pondered if he should tell Stark what happened or not. After a while, he decided to give some information, knowing the Stark lord would appreciate it. 

“In truth, we just found out that Aemma is expecting, but many of the foods have so far not sat well with her, so she was feeling frail, which caused more worry once the healer stated that Aemma was at risk of losing the babe. She felt she was failing at her duty, which I had to assure her she was not. Another babe can come if the gods wish to bless us, but the gods can’t give us another Aemma Velayron.” explained Benjioct, staring up at the sky and seeing two dragons dancing in the air, Caraxes and Sliverwing. 

Cregan exhaled as he stood clasping Benji’s arms and clapping him on the back, “Congratulations, but truly, are she and the babe doing better?” 

Benjicot slightly smiled, “Yes, with each day, both are getting stronger, but the healer has asked us not to share anything until her fourth moon, just to be sure. So Please, only you and my aunt know outside of Aemma and me; please don’t share the news until we feel ready.” asked Benjicot, feeling more at ease. 

Cregan nodded, overjoyed that this surrogate sister was having a baby. After dealing with their house losses, Houses Targaryen and Blackwood were receiving a new life. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Aly reached the tent, she was met by a few handmaidens running through it, preparing the princess for the rest of the day. Noticing one holding a letter, Aly went to her, asking if she wanted to give it to the princess, as the maiden nodded and left. Aemma saw Aly and grinned at her, finding how much they enjoyed each other’s company. 

“May I ask the princess what tired her out in the middle of the day to warrant a nap? Hmm?” teased Alysanne, grinning more as she saw Aemma blush and turned away. 

“All I will say is your nephew, and that should be enough,” Aemma said as her handmaiden giggled, finishing putting the princess together. 

Alyssane rolled her eyes but was secretly glad to hear that Ben and Aemma were coming back together like before the whole Aegon debacle. 

While waiting for the last Handmaiden to leave, Aly went to Aemma, looking at the girl leave and placing a hand on the princess’s ever-growing stomach. “How are you both dwelling today?” she whispered. 

Aemma smiled, placing her hand on Aly, “We are doing well. I don’t get as sick anymore, but I crave lemon cakes. But I don’t want to make it too obvious by asking for them. Those were the tall-tale signs in my mother’s pregnancies.” stated Aemma, flushing in embarrassment as Alyssane laughed. 

“Just let me know; Ben and I will sneak all the lemon cakes our princess commands us to take.” 

Aemma laughed, hitting Aly on her shoulder playfully. She was glad to make a friend. Moving to Raventree Hall after the war would be easier. 

Before Aly forgot, she handed Aemma the letter she held in her other hand. Aemma opened the letter, reading that her father wished for her and Benji to speak with him. Frowning, she asked Aly if she could do the favor and asked Benji to meet her at the hall in Harrenhal. Aly worried and asked if everything was fine, but Aemma shrugged, not knowing what her father wanted. 

As Aemma and Benjicot entered, they saw her father sitting at the table, drinking wine and looking at papers before him. Looking up, he saw his daughter and good-son walking hand in hand, better than a few weeks ago when they would barely touch each other. 

“Good afternoon, Kepa . Has something happened? Is mother well?” Aemma questioned her father. 

“Good afternoon, My Sea Dragon, has your ailment finally felt you …hmm?” raised a brow the Rouge Prince, seeing both freeze for a second before relaxing. 

“Yes, it was just the food that wasn’t sitting with me quite right, and with the worries of grandmother, I fear it was all too much too quickly,” smoothly lied Aemma. Her father had no right to judge the events that transpired in her marriage, not when he had his own problems with her mother. 

“You did not answer my second question. Is everything alright in Dragonstone?” pondered Aemma. 

“I received two letters from Dragonstone. Your mother has found a few Dragonseeds willing to claim any unmounted dragons on Dragomount… She only wanted to notify us to keep it looped, but… Your brother Jacaerys sent one as well. He is urging you to come to Dragonstone.” Explained Daemon, seeing Aemma’s face scrunched with confusion. 

“Why does Jace want me back home… I’m sure he could handle the situation regarding the dragon seeds. What could worry him about them and the drag-” Then Aemma paled as she quietly gasped. 

Hearing his wife, Benji quickly turned and steadied her, growing worried, looking back at Daemon. 

Daemon turned to Benji and nodded at the boy, a silent thank you for being there for her. 

“That is why I am asking about your ailment… do you think you are strong enough to ride with your husband to Dragonstone? Jace is asking for you to come, per the chance one of them tries to claim Seasmoke, Leanor’s dragon, that you be there…” explained Daemon, seeing tears pool into Aemma’s eyes. Leanor's disappearance left a hole in Aemma, and knowing someone might take her father’s mount made it seem fair for Aemma to say goodbye to the dragon should it happen. 

Aemma nodded as she left to prepare Sliverwing for the journey. As Benjicot was following when Daemon called out to him. 

“You are going to see another side to my daughter in Dragonstone; Aemma was always known as the kind princess like her grandmother, Queen Aemma, but as I said, dragons are overprotective of things they love. She will be very hostile to any of the people who will try to claim Seasmoke… try to stop her from setting one of them on fire,” stated Daemon as he quietly laughed at his joke. 

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As Aemma and Benjicot arrived, Rhaenyra was shocked to see her daughter’s new appearance. She looked drastically different from when she last saw her; she was practically glowing. She narrowed her eyes… could she… turning to Rhaenys, who glanced and nodded. 

“My pearl, seeing you and your husband away from Harrenhal is a surprise. Is there anything I need to know?” asked Rhaenyra, smiling at her daughter but then frowning at her daughter's hardened look. 

“If you are going to give out dragons so easily, then I think your second eldest should be here to see what kind of people are willing to risk themselves getting killed for a dragon,” stated Aemma as she stared down the people near her mother, all who quickly turned away from the princess’s gaze. 

Aemma's eyes narrowed, and she saw two young men with dark skin, white hair, and brown eyes. She then turned to her grandparents, who would not see her eyes. Benjicot looked at his wife with a smile; Daemon’s statement seemed correct. Rhaenyra sighed as she quickly glared at Jacaerys, looking too smug to see his sister here. Of course, her two eldest children would always team up against their parents when they didn’t get their way. 

“Aemma, my sweet, we need allies, and we have many dragons who are unclaimed; you did not need to come all the way here-” 

“I do when you are planning to give away my father’s dragon! ” quickly replied Aemma, her eyes ignited with fury. Bennji tried to calm her, pressing her back to him and whispering sweet words. Aemma closed her eyes and sighed, letting her husband comfort her. Rhaenyra sent a grateful smile to her good-son, relieved to see them so close again. 

“ I think that Jace and I deserve to see who might claim him… please Mother, grant me this..” pleaded Aemma. 

Rhaenyra nodded, “Alright, we were planning to go in an hour, but if you feel tired..” 

“No, just let my husband and I place our things in my room, and we will meet you in Dragonmount. Jace, help me,” commanded Aemma as she left the room, Benjicot and Jace following her. 

As everyone watched the dragon princess leave, they stared in awe; there they saw was the actual presence of a dragon. 

As the large party arrived in Dragonmount, many dragons seemed to know what would transpire, each leaving their caves, flying in the air, and landing. Almost like they were exhibiting their finest qualities, waiting for someone to try and claim them. A few tried and were chased away, or some tragically passed to claim a dragon. As everything was happening, Aemma stared at Seasmoke, her father’s dragon, who was restless and crying. Aemma’s heart ached. She, too, missed Leanor as much as Seasmoke did, wishing there was a world where Aemma could have had both Leanor and Daemon co-existing and being her fathers. She was selfish, yes, she knew, but she was only human. Benjicot turned his gaze to where his wife was staring, taking a break from the intense setting of people dying and getting maimed in trying to claim a dragon. He was not afraid or disgusted but instead getting bored. 

“Was that your father’s dragon?” asked Benji, noting his wife nodding. 

“Yes, He and I would take Seasmoke and Sliverwing out together. People called us the fog of Dragonstone because of how much we flew together,” explained Aemma as she reminisced about her father. 

Aemma smiled, seeing Seasmoke land nearby, chirping and recognizing the princess. Her excellent mood, although quickly soured when she saw Addam of Hull come… she could care less if he was her grandsire’s bastard; she only cared that he seemed to think of himself worthy of her father’s dragon. Turning sharply at her grandmother, Rhaenys only grimaced and nodded to Aemma, letting her know she was allowing it to happen, making Aemma's nose flared in anger. Benji noticed and pressed her tighter body to him. 

“Calm, sweet girl, don’t stress yourself; it's not good for you and the babe,” whispered Benji as he stared at Addam, trying to pet Seasmoke. 

Seasmoke stared at the young lad, sniffing his scent before the dragon roared angrily, nearly biting the man’s hand off. Addam fell to the ground as everyone gasped in shock. Seasmoke became angrier with the presence near him. Aemma, gasping, not thinking clearly, ran off, trying to calm the dragon. She knew running to a dragon that was not hers was foolish. Rhaenyra gasped, shouting for Aemma to step back. Hearing the shouts from the queen, Benji ran to his wife, capturing her arm as he roughly pulled her back to him; he was not risking losing her. Seasmoke ran towards them and screamed at their faces, causing the two to flinch and close their eyes. Sliverwing, hearing the commotion, landed behind her rider, screeching back at the younger dragon to back off. Everyone was tense, not wanting for the two dragons to fight. They became more nervous when they heard Vermithor growling, not liking his mate so near a male dragon. After a long beat, Seasmoke lowered his head in submission, recognizing Sliverwing and her rider before gazing at Aemma. Aemma stares back at him before shakily raising her hand to him. 

“ Lyikri , Seasmoke, do you remember me?” whispered Aemma as she soothed the male dragon. 

Seasmoke moved his head to the side, staring at the princess, almost looking like he did remember her. Moving slowly closer, he began to sniff her, and then Benjicot, a scent near them, was calling to him. Then he moved lower towards her stomach; he sniffed her stomach. This made Aemma gasp as she and Benji touched her stomach.  Seasmoke then started chirping, nuzzling her stomach, laying in front of her, and continuing to chirp and nuzzle. Everyone who was not Aemma looked at the grey dragon in confusion before Rhaenyra and Rhaenys gasped, both remembering how Syrax and Meleys reacted to their own pregnancies in the past. Rhaenys allowed her tears to flow; it seemed Leanor wanted his future grandchild to have his dragon. 

Rhaenyra smiled, turning to the confused audience, “Seasmoke is no longer available to be claimed.” 

Alynn, confused, turned to the dragon queen and asked, “But I thought one rider was not allowed to have more than one dragon?” 

Addam nodded in agreement, feeling that he was being robbed of a chance to prove himself to Colrys Velayron. 

Rhaenyra smiled, “That’s true. Never has a rider claimed two dragons from what we know, and Aemma is not different, for it wasn’t Princess Aemma who claimed Seassmoke… but the babe in her stomach.’ she explained, tears falling as she stared at her daughter. 

Everyone turned to the princess and her lord husband, trying to see a bump. Corlys could see a slight bump as he grew overjoyed; he was to be a great-grandsire! 

Aemma and Benjicot froze; they weren’t planning on telling anyone yet… but it seemed the gods were not letting them have control over that. Seasmoke was letting them know he had claimed their child. Benji stared at the dragon and then caressed his wife’s slight swelling. His child seemed to be a future dragon rider, a first for House Blackwood.

the dear daughter

summary: At one-and-twenty and eight-and-ten, barely a year after their marriage, Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen welcomed their first child, a daughter, into the world. The girl immediately became dear to the whole court, coddled and spoiled by all, but mostly by her grandsire, King Viserys I. The man saw in his granddaughter her mother, and as the girl grew to look like his late wife, Aemma Arryn, it became even clearer that he doted on her more than he did to his own children or his other grandchildren.

pairings: cregan stark x velaryon!reader (no use of y/n), platonic (familial) relationship between the targs/velaryon and reader

word count: 2.8k

warnings: mention of hard labours, reader is a little shit and everyone loves her for that, language? pretty fluffy chapter if you ask me

author's note: this is my first time writing for hotd, so i hope that you like it lol. it's most likely going to be an AU, and as always, english is not my first language so (kind) criticism is plenty accepted lol

series masterlist

Once her first labours finally come to an end, Rhaenyra Targaryen finds herself blessed with a daughter: a small child with fair eyes and white hair, that in the years would become the only babe actually sired by her husband, Laenor Velaryon.

Rhaenyra watches with enamoured eyes as you latch onto her breast, suckling any milk you can get; your eyes are of a misty lilac, like hers once were, and as you look up at her, she’s sure she has never felt a thing like this before. She’s a mother now, she’s what Aemma once was to her, and she feels like she’s getting back a small piece of her mother as she brushes the small tuft of white hair upon your head. 

“Aren’t you the sweetest little thing?” Laenor, head laid upon her shoulder to have a better look, says. As you sleepily close your eyes, he nudges the hand that lays on Rhaenyra’s chest to seek a reaction from you, who in return wraps the entirety of your small palm around his index finger — not even managing to cover it all. By the look on his face, your mother knows that he is holding himself back from squealing. 

They both know you’re the only child they will ever have together. The months before your conception were made of dreadful nights, tears of frustration and awkward moments, so when Rhaenyra finally came to be with child they both took a relieved breath, and swore they would never lie together ever again. Rhaenyra, though, knows you probably won’t be her last; it’s expected of her to have more than one child, and if Laenor can’t give that to her, she’s going to seek that from someone else. He knows, they’ve talked about it, and he sees no problem with it; all children birthed by Rhaenyra are going to be legitimised, and he will be treating them as if they were his. 

But you’re the only one that’s going to be his. The blood of his blood. Ours runs thick. 

Rhaenyra, with the last forces left to her, delicately hoists you from her chest to give you to your father. “Why don’t you hold her?”

Laenor flushes, embarrassed, maybe not feeling ready for this moment. “Oh– I– I…” 

Despite his initial scepticism, he rests his back on the headboard, getting in a sitting position and undoing the laces of his blouse, as the maester has said that placing a babe on naked skin should calm and comfort them. So he carefully places you on his chest, and your head sits right above his heart, held and caressed gently by his hands. 

She was not born out of love, Rhaenyra thinks, but that shall not make her feel less loved by any means. 

Your dragon hatches in your cradle barely a sennight after your birth, just like every Targaryen worthy of their name, and your mother lovingly names her Merrax as she gives her to the dragon keepers to feed and train until you are old enough to bond with and claim her. 

Two moons after your birth, a feast is held in your honour, so that Rhaenyra manages to recover from her labours to participate and everyone that is invited can make sure to attend. Neither your mother nor Laenor are happy about it, as they would rather spend their time coddling and holding you in their arms, but Viserys is just too ecstatic about his first granddaughter — cooing and showing her around the castle, introducing the babe to anyone who will listen — so they indulge for his sake, and figure that letting him parade you around for just a night won’t hurt anyone. They surely didn’t think they’d have to thank a hundred lords and ladies for the gifts they brought to their firstborn for two hours straight. 

After the first hour, your mother checked to see how the line of nobles was going and paled, nudging to her husband. “This is worse than it was at our wedding.”

Laenor nodded, looking over at his father-in-law, happily chatting with Lord Bracken about the whole new wardrobe of dresses he just gifted to you. “We now have… what, ten cradles? And how many dresses and toy-dragons and dolls do we have?”

Rhaenyra sighs dramatically. “I stopped counting at the twelfth doll. Some Lords really are desperate for the favour of the King, it seems.” She looks over at you; despite the cradle sitting between her and her father for you to sleep in, it seems that Viserys has no intention of letting you stay there. You’re held in his arms, sat atop his legs, wearing a dress made of all puffy lilac silks that basically drown your little body. 

The King actually seems to be paying more attention to you than to the Lords, redoing the ribbon holding together your bonnet when it loosens and shushing you when you start to whine. “It’s actually quite interesting to watch,” Rhaenyra whispers to Laenor, “I don’t think she’s ever been this confused — nor endeared.”

You squeal when you like a gift, while you just stare when you don’t like one, and your grandsire seems to have caught up on it, managing his response to the Lords based on your reactions.

“Lord Rickon of House Stark, from Winterfell,” the page announces. Lord Rickon is a tall man no older than fourty, though his hair is already completely white — it looks like the North isn’t treating him well. He carries a son with him — Cregan, he says, — barely five summers old, and gives him a little nudge towards the makeshift throne where Viserys and you are sitting. “Come on, son,” 

Little Cregan almost stumbles upon the steps, “Your Majesty, it is an honour to be here. This is House Stark’s bestowal for the birth of the young Princess.”

Rhaenyra is impressed. She’s pretty sure no five-year-old can talk like that; Cregan seems to be much taller than the boys his age, too. The boy in question opens the box in his hands, revealing a necklet adorned with purple sapphires and pearls, and it’s so pretty that your mother thinks she just might borrow it from you. It’s not like you’ll notice the absence of it — you won’t be able to wear it for at least another seven years. To match it, there’s also a pair of tear-shaped earrings and an oval ring, all with the same lilac stones. Looks like the Starks have good taste. 

You stare at the jewels, then at the boy, then again at the jewels. You squeal, a hand reaching for the necklet — or at least, it seems. Because you actually reach for the little metal buckle that sits upon the Little Lord’s chest, holding together two leather pieces. It’s of a deep grey — silver or steel, perhaps? — and it’s adorned with the Starks emblem, the howling direwolf. 

Viserys doesn’t let you lean enough to take a hold of the buckle, taking your little hand in his and shaking his head. “No, not that, sweetling,” he chastises. He gently takes the wooden box from Cregan, showing you the jewels. “They are quite impressive, are they not? Clearly, it took an expert hand to make them.” 

Lord Rickon puffs his chest with pride, but as you reach and take the necklet, you don’t seem quite as happy as before. Your little hands wrap around the big, round gemstones and pearls, and you try to chew on it before the King can stop you. The court erupts in laughter, and your grandsire takes the jewel away from your hands as gently as he can. “No, sweetling, you can’t put it in your mouth–” 

But your attention is already elsewhere, towards the Stark boy, and you reach your hand out towards the buckle with the emblem of his House again. You really like it, it seems.

Cregan sends an unsure glance towards his father, who nods, then unclasps the buckle from the leather straps and hands you the little emblem. You eagerly take it, immediately chewing on it — and this time, Viserys chooses not to stop you before you importunate the Stark boy anymore — but you still don’t look satisfied. You reach towards Cregan, again, and this time, pull a chunk of his hair, squealing delightfully. 

Rhaenyra can tell that the child is trying his best not to protest — after all, even if a babe, you are still a princess — as you, with all the mighty force that a newborn has, happily try to make the Stark boy bald. You shriek and gurgle, happily playing with the black strands as the whole court tries not to laugh their asses off. 

Viserys, despite holding back his laugh, decides to take mercy upon the boy, separing you two and hoisting you up, laughing gleefully. “My dear granddaughter!” he exclaims. “Not even three moons old yet, and already terrorising the whole court!” he then looks at Cregan, a playful glint in his eyes. “I think she likes you, boy!”

He sends the Stark boy off with a pat on the shoulder and a truthful thanks to Lord Rickon for the gifts, as clearly, they were appreciated amply.

Further in the evening, they send you back in Rhaenyra’s arms, milk drunk from the wet nurse feeding, and she finds herself surrounded by Ladies and Lords who gape at you, who are starting to get a bit fussy and stirring and whining in her arms.  Your mother shushes you as best as she can, but since there’s a constant buzzing in the hall — it being the bards or the guests chatting — there’s not much she can do. 

You seem to regain your light when Lord Stark — or, more like, his son — enters your vision camp. You squeal happily, even if the boy winces, brushing his hair behind his ear just to make sure you won’t pull it again. Rhaenyra laughs, saccharine and a bit inebriated from the wine she has had, and looks over the child. “It seems that she has taken quite a liking to you, boy. Would you like to hold her?”

Cregan isn’t exactly fond of the idea, but when a princess asks if you wish to hold her child, you can’t exactly refuse. So he takes a seat in the nearest chair as your mother explains to him how to hold you, and once he does, he finds your eyes — big, violet and shiny — looking at him with what he could only explain as awe. The Ladies around him share a knowing laughter, chanting something about love at first sight, and you slowly fall asleep in his arms. 

He is finally relieved of the tremendous weight sitting in his arms as Rhaenyra retrieves you, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple and thanking the boy, before going towards the cradle sitting between the two makeshift thrones in front of the Royal Family’s table, guarded by two knights. She lays you down and murmurs a small promise of taking you back to the nursery as soon as the feast ends, and then sends a knowing look to Harwin, stationed right beside the crib to guard you. 

The rest of the night passes smoothly, and by the end of it, Cregan finds himself peering over the crib as almost every adult in the room is black-out drunk, poking your cheek with his finger. Ser Strong gives him a reprimanding but somewhat soft slap on the back of his head, asking him not to do that. 

And as he looks at you over the crib, stirring but not waking up, the only thing that Cregan Stark can think about is all the trouble you’re going to cause once you grow up.

Sometime later comes Jacaerys. 

You welcome him with a slap on the cheek and a high pitched cry, scared about the fact that there’s another babe in the arms of your mother that’s not you, and Laenor is quick to escort you out of the birthing chamber, shushing you with promises of buying you new dolls and taking you to ride Seasmoke. 

And he does, but that doesn’t seem to put an end to your jealousy. 

Rhaenyra is still strained by her labours, who weren’t so kind to her like last time; she finds herself in much more pain than she was when she had you, and for days can’t even stand up straight for more than a few seconds. This does not help the situation, because you want your mother to play with you and take you riding on Syrax, but she can't — and you end up, yet again, blaming your little brother and taking it out on him.

You start screaming as soon as you see him. You mostly reject the spare attempts of your mother to make you bond with him or even to hug her, and Rhaenyra, already suffering thanks to the stress of a newborn that looks nothing like Laenor holds, feels like a terrible mother. 

“Of course the child doesn’t like her brother,” the maids whisper. “He looks nothing like her, or her mother. She sees him as a stranger; she sees what he actually is — a bastard.”

The maids’ tongues are quick to cut, but whispers are hard to silence, and they continue. Alicent makes sure of it. She always seems to take a liking in making Rhaenyra’s life as hard as possible, thriving in seeing her pain. 

During this time, you don’t throw tantrums with only three people: Laenor, your aunt Halaena and your grandsire. 

Laenor, bless his heart, is a softie for you. He loves Jacaerys, he really does, but he can’t stand to see you cry and feel replaced. You’re young, but you’re smart, and even if you cannot articulate it, he knows you think that with Jace you’re no longer going to be as loved as before. That’s because when Laena was born, he’s pretty sure he thought and felt the same, but he’s also sure that you’re going to accept Jacaerys, so he often tries to persuade you into seeing him. It always ends in a pool of tears and yet another promise to taking you on a ride on Seasmoke with him. 

Helaena has no expectations of you, and she just lets you roam in the gardens, her chambers or the nursery as you like. She’s sweet, feeding you lemon cakes stolen from the kitchens and letting you sleep on her lap, curled like a cat. She makes you dresses — secretly altered by her septa so that they are actually functioning — and sings you lullabies, liking the idea of kinda having a baby of her own without birthing one or having to have a husband.

Yet, your favourite always ends up being your grandsire, the King; it seems that you can barely be separated from him. You become his little shadow, always following him, waddling around and clinging to his cloak. And when the lords in the Small Council ask him why there's a toddler sitting on his legs, playing with his cup and trying to drink from it, he just laughs it off and tells them to go on with the meeting.

He spoils you rotten, buying you all the toys and dresses you spare a glance to, even after Rhaenyra tells him again and again to stop doing that. It is clear that he has a favourite, as Alicent always reminds him, as he is “constantly neglecting his sons in favour of a spoiled brat”, as she says. Viserys doesn’t tolerate such language, and never makes it a mystery to his lady wife, not once backing down from reprimanding her about it. 

And Viserys ends up being a blessing, because slowly, he manages to make you warm up to Jacaerys. You soon begin to ask about your baby brother, if he can play or say your name, and decide that since you lack of male dolls, he’s little enough to make up for it. 

In the year that follows, Lucerys joins you and Jace. This time, you instantly treat him as if he was your own, happy with your newfound role of older sister, trying to play with him even if he can barely roll onto his belly. This time around, it is Jace who is jealous of the newcomer; his dear sister now’s all preoccupied with the new babe and barely even cares about him anymore, it seems. But his jealousy doesn’t last as long as yours, luckily, because soon enough he’s joining you in the quest of dressing up Luke as a dragon.

Rhaenyra is so happy with this turn of events that the rumours about her sons being bastards are almost completely tuned out. And as she sits in the nursery, watching you dress up Jacaerys as a true prince to save your dolls while Lucerys sleeps like the dead in the cradle, she thinks that weirdly enough, she wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

Jaes's hen jēdar

God's of the sky

Daemon x reader, Rhaenyra x reader (platonic), Qoren Martell x reader

Synopsis: y/n Targaryen daughter of Baelon the brave and Gael the winter child changes the brutal future of house Targaryen.

Masterlist:

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

His Lady's Love

~Lord Benjicot Blackwood returns home from a border skirmish to his lovely lady~

Trigger Warnings~Description of blood and wounds, reference to battle, Bracken hate, mentions of sex and pregnancy, reader is simply referred to as Lady Blackwood, her features are as you wish but longer hair is mentioned, angst, comfort, and fluff, They're in love your Honor~

The air in Blackwood Castle smelled of rains and unforeseen troubles as the darkness of the evening slowly overcame the Riverlands. The sun had made its way across the sky as a strong storm had formed around the castle; one almost as strong as the Young Lord making his way to his chambers.

The young Lord's dark clothes were stained with blood, the same blood that covered his face in a mockery of freckles and sunspots. His tunic sleeve was ripped open exposing a detestable wound, the sticky blood clinging to his skin like a lover would. His boots stunk of mud and the Bracken's cow field.

But with his head held high with victory the Young Benjicot quickly made his way to his chambers; paying no attention to the filth or blood that dripped upon the ancient stone floors. The Raven Haired Lord only had one thing on his battle worn mind, only one person worth seeing in this forsaken realm.

And so the Young Benjicot hastily burst into his chambers, and his bloodied gaze quickly set upon the Lady of His Heart. She sat in front of the dying fire, the dancing flames shone upon her hair as it cascaded around her. His lady was clad in a smooth night dress, the dress going to great lengths to hide his wife's growing body.

At the sound of the grand door opening she quickly pivoted her head around to be met with the sight of her blood soaked husband. A smile quickly fell from her face as she harshly stood up to meet him but not before Benjicot quickly made his way towards his beloved.

"Benji," her voice was filled with concern as her injured husband quickly but carefully forced her to sit back down.

Her Lord Husband quickly cut her questions off, "The maesters have said that you need to rest my Lady," his eyes filled with nothing but affection for his lady.

Lady Blackwood's eyes narrowed at her husband's mothering tendencies, all the while his arm gaped open and he was stained with blood.

She scoffed, "I could rest if my Lord Husband was not constantly getting into tussles with the Brackens over cattle." Her words spoke of anger but Benjicot could see a hint of fear within his wife's face.

Being neither a Blackwood or Bracken by birth his wife often found the bickering between the two houses to be a great sense of mirth, but this was the first time her Lord Husband had ever been injured.

His lips quivered into a smile, "My lady mustn't worry about me, a Bracken foal stands no chance against the Lord of Raventree," he carefully removed a blood stained glove and stroked his beloved's cheek.

"You are injured, Benjicot," she said as she held his wounded arm. "How can I rest when I know my husband is roaming the Riverlands like a feral mongrel?"

Her gaze fell down to her covered stomach, the evidence of their love showing through the night dress. She tenderly grabbed his clean hand and placed it on her swollen stomach, her eyes once again meeting his.

"I cannot rest knowing that my husband might not one day come back," her eyes glazed over and tears began to form, "that he would leave me a Widow and our child fatherless, all for an endless feud that harms us all."

His lady's words stung more than any wound ever could. Benjicot Blackwood was an honorable and proud man, he sent fear across battlefields, but he never wanted to send fear into his own home let alone his beloved wife.

Benjicot had never been gifted in his skills with words let alone comfort, but the tears that dripped onto his Lady's soft cheeks seemed to jar something from his spirit.

His shaky hands intertwined with his wife over her stomach, his unbloodied hand gently caressing her smooth fingers.

"When I swore to you under our Weirwood Tree I promised I would remain by your side to my final breath, that you would be my Lady until I depart this world," silent tears fell onto her Lady's cheeks as he spoke of their blissful day.

"I should've proclaimed that I will not depart this world without you, that I will grow old with my Lady, that together our children will know peace in the realm," he smiled softly, "that their father will always come home to them, and that his beloved would never fear her husband was lying dead on the border."

A kind smile graced his wife's face and his heart fluttered at the sight, two years into their binding and she still sent tremors through the Young Lord's soul.

He wiped a tear with his unbloodied hand and spoke boldly, "I love you like I love no other, and I promise to honor you for the rest of my life; I cannot promise to end the feud but I will always come home to my Lady and our children." 

Lady Blackwood simply smiled and to Benjicots surprise quickly drew Benji into a loving embrace; his Lady not seeming to mind the filth he was covered in. As his sweet wife embraced the blood soaked man, it felt as if his soul had been cleaned of the lives he had taken. A man as battle hardened as Benjicot knew he did not deserve such a gift, but maybe he’d one day become worthy of such a gift. For his unborn babe that rested within his beloved's Womb, and for the beloved Lady that rested within Lord Benjicot Blackwood's arms. 

As Lady Blackwood was held in her husband's arms she placed a kiss over his clothed heart, it seemed to be the only place on his tunic that wasn’t stained with blood. Tenderly she pulled off his other bloodied glove and brought both hands into a kiss. Soft tears filled her Lord's mossy eyes at the sight, but Benjicot could not find words worth speaking at the gesture. 

“I love you my Benjicot, my sweet protector and my beloved husband; your battle worn hands do not scare me and they never will, and I know you shall always come home to us, but a wife will worry.” Understanding filled Lady Blackwood's eyes, and Benji felt as if he had seen her for the first time like he did under the Weirwood tree years ago.

A teasing smile flicked across her face, “You are filthy Benji, and you have ruined my gown,” her words were not harsh but seemed playful to the blushing Benjicot who now seemed red in the face with his own blood. Realizing him she placed a hand on her stomach and carefully guided Benji into their shared bath chambers, where a filled bronze tub steamed away in the corner. A smirk fell upon Benji's face showing off a hint of his crooked teeth and pulled at the dried blood on his face. 

“Did my beloved know I would return home filthy?” His voice was teasing, as a small blush appeared on his Lady's face.

An equally roguish smirk appeared on her face and it sent Benji's heart ablaze, “Maybe a wife just wishes to bathe with her beloved Husband.” 

Lord Benjicot could do nothing but laugh and pull his beloved lady closer to him and press a soft kiss against her forehead. 

And soon the Lord and Lady of Raventree washed the blood of their bodies together, as a silent promise thicker than the grime on Benjicot filled their hearts. A promise of love and peacefulness for their people and the Babe growing in his dearest wifes womb.

(I hope y'all enjoyed this, I haven't written in a very long time and this is my first House of the Dragon Fic, I've been obsessed with Benjicot Blackwood lately and I hope to write more works for fim :) I'm always taking writing suggestions and Fic requests so if you have any ideas please let me know! )

𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑒 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

𝑑𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑠 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑤𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚!𝑤𝑖𝑓𝑒!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

✧.* 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: female reader/description, canon divergent, celtigar!reader, cunnilingus, use of Y/n

𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: why would davos ever deny his wife when she tastes so sweet? (based off THIS REQUEST)

✧.* 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 557

blog masterlist | benjicot/davos blackwood masterlist

DEVOTED. That was one word that could single-handedly describe Y/n's husband. She was a Celtigar of Claw Isle, borrowing her mother's plain hair, yet keeping the luminous purple eyes of the Valyrians. Plainly coloured or not, Davos didn't care. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid his eyes on, and knew from the moment they met that he'd rather die than continue on without her. So he sent a raven to her father attached with a gift, and soon enough they were meeting a second time.

The conversation that followed flowed as easy as a river, and they both understood at once there would be no others for them. They were wed three moons later (a terrible, languid wait) and with great excitement spouted their vows in front of a weirwood tree. Needless to say, their wedding night was private and passionate.

Since then, he had never said no to her wants. Each day he showered her with sweet words. He would give her presents for no particular occasion and angrily defend her against those who had wrought animosity. But most of all, Davos Blackwood enjoyed gifting her pleasure. Particularly, with his head squeezed between her thighs.

It was not only she who derived enjoyment from this act. He loved nothing more than to feast upon her nectar and hear the music that was her moans.

"Gods," Y/n panted, her hands entangled into his scalp.

The chill of autumn had caught up to her especially, and she'd draped herself across the chaise lounge in their chambers as he warmed her up.

Davos licked hungrily. He had his two arms circled around her legs, ensuring they were steady propped up on his shoulders. His fingers were pressed hard against her flesh, as well as his tongue against her pearl.

He suckled up her arousal enthusiastically, desperate to hear more of her pretty noises. He hadn't come up for air at all, and she attempted to loosen her thighs wrapped around him. Davos kept them in place, the suffocation and feel of her too delicious to escape from.

He unwrapped one of his arms to utilise his fingers, sliding one into her entrance. She shuddered, the tension adding a satisfying ache.

He pushed another in, his thumb moving to rub her bud in circles. She gasped. Her release was so close. And he knew it.

All of his ministrations worked faster together in tandem. The louder she was, the more he gave, and finally, everything came crashing down. She shrieked, loosening her hold on him. He removed himself, smirking wide. The entirety of his mouth and the area surrounding it was slick with her release. He took his two fingers and licked them clean.

"What now?" he murmured, crawling up the lounge. His knee balanced himself in the midst of her open legs, and he leaned over to kiss her jaw.

She pushed him away and rolled her eyes. She was far too spent to do anything else, though she was pleased he was ready for more. "Now I rest."

Davos quirked his head. "Where's the fun in that?" He went back in to kiss behind her ear. "I am entirely at your service, love. You could ask for whatever you want."

Y/n eyed him suspiciously. She pulled him down, their mouths meeting hotly.

Benjicot/Davos Blackwood Tag List: @historyloverz @aemondtargaryenwifey @jacaerysgf @roseheart5 @victorysony

@waystarkia @little-bunn1 @shifter-101 @flwernyrvie @myangelbaby555

@courtneymirai @iliterallyhavenoideawhattosay @cypherpt5fttaehyung @clairifys @stlzking

@secretf1lms @asteria33 @ilovequeen978 @urfavscoripo @charvsz

@baelatruther @nikki-is-a-nerd @lovebabe18 @rhaenyrathecruelwithteats @slytherized

@h-0-error @hanquokkascheekies @vqmpyrecult @avataranne @sirenangelroyal

@hydrxxxmrti

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 - benjicot blackwood

tag list: @maidr-00 @spider-stark @avataranne

a/n: first time writing smut, so please be respectful. more like a drabble. aged up benjicot.

request: could you write smut with benji when he returns to his wife all bloody from battle? just wild and feral benjicot

pairings: benjicot blackwood x fem (wife) reader

warnings: +18, smut, oral sex (f receiving), making out, blood, and little mentions of violence and gore.

ask me for permission before translating

Devoted, Benjicot was completely devoted to you, his beloved wife.

The obsession and love he felt for you were so overwhelming that sometimes he wondered if he was getting closer to madness. Every breath he took, every sigh, and every beat of his heart was dedicated to you, only you.

The thoughts he possessed were completely saturated and coated with your image, with your soft and pleasurable touch, with the intoxicating memory of your delicate and addictive smell, and with the vivid memory of your naked body next to his.

The love Benjicot Blackwood felt for you was as sweet and gentle as it was wild and overwhelming. It was like a burning flame that burned his veins, filling every cell of Benji's body and intensely involving his chest in an internal combustion that only calmed down when he was by his side and felt your touch.

He found his purpose in life in serving you, his dear and beautiful wife, with all the sweetness he possessed, while at the same time dedicating all his strength and attention to protecting you from the dangers of Westeros and anything that could harm you or even hurt you.

You were not only his wife but also everything he longed for, and he faithfully believed that you were a gift that the ancient gods he loved so much sent to him.

Only they knew how grateful he was for that.

And finally, after weeks away from home, far from you, Benjicot returned from one of his battles, covered in blood but without regrets. The longing he felt for you was palpable and erased any traces of regret or guilt he might have felt.

The craving he had for you was physical, an anxiety that built up with every step he took towards your fortress.

And when he got off his horse, both relief and anticipation surged within him as the sight of the familiar walls brought him profound relief, but nothing compared to the longing to see your face and to feel your arms around him again.

As he hurried towards you, without waiting for a single moment, he didn't hesitate to attack your lips with all the strength and sweetness he could muster at that moment.

Benjicot quickly wrapped you in his strong arms while pressing his bloody body to yours with urgency and hunger for weeks. His tongue explored your mouth with the same eagerness and desire as the first time he had done it, as if he needed to reassure himself that you were real and that you were really there after so long.

And before you could have a chance to speak, he grabbed you by the legs, placing you on top of the small table in the old office and kneeling himself between your legs.

His eyes were on you, looking at your expression of pleasure, memorizing every movement your lips made, and almost trembling when moans came from your beautiful lips.

He ate you out like a starving man, licking and biting every bit of your pussy while squeezing both your thighs with his thick, bloody hands, marking your body with the blood he had shed in battle as he reveled in what you had to offer him.

You were sweet against his mouth, and he was sure he could come at any moment driven by the sounds of your moans and the way you grabbed his hair to make him stop; however, he didn't and instead buried his head deeper between your legs, licking your clit with more hunger, ignoring the pain of the pulls you gave him and the suffocation that your legs created around his head.

And before you even knew it, a hoarse scream left your throat, and you came into his mouth, pulling his hair even more and making him moan against your pussy as he licked up all the mess you had made before standing up and devouring your lips once again.

"Well, I guess this was a welcome home gift for me." He said this as he placed his forehead against yours, smiling as he heard a little laugh come out of your mouth.

But before you could react, he claimed your lips once again, determined to end the ache he still had felt.

logging out rn ppl, see ya 🫡

english is not my first language, please be respectful!

❛ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 , benjicot blackwood ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , you were the apple of your family's eye a rare gem they would do anything to protect but sometimes even the purest doves crave something bloody

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , benjicot blackwood x fem! velaryon / strong! reader

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , benji with the 10 seconds of screen time ateee tbh or wait is it not benji cuz I've heard some people say it's not so plz explain cuz I'm so confused lmfao !!

house of the dragon masterlist

⌗ you were a bastard. born from a night of passion shared between you mother and father. rhaenyra and daemon. but no one would ever call you a bastard. as you bore all the features of a targaryen unlike your siblings. white hair purple eyes. the seven kingdoms called you aemma reborn. as your striking resemblance to your late grand mother was uncanny.

⌗ growing up life was easy. your mother and grandsire doted on you. your siblings would go to the ends of the known world for you. ser harwin and leanor though not your real fathers stepped up and were there for you whenever you needed them. and though you had never met your real father your mother told you that he would love you.

⌗ truth be told there was nothing that daemon more than to be with you. his daughter. his oldest. but he settled for watching from afar for now. hearing about all of your achievements in pentos. how you had claimed the creeping death amaris. a dragon that had never been claimed and was rumored to be from balerion's final clutch. and it showed. as amaris was the largest dragon around. making vaghar look petite. and while daemon couldn't help but be the proudest man in the known world. part of him breathed a sigh of relief that his daughter didn't get hurt.

⌗ life was good. as you grew older tales of your beauty spread far and wide. from winterfell to dorne. you had suitors from all over flock to offer their hand. from dresses to castles. they offered it all. but were ultimately shut down by either your mother or grandsire. even the queen alicent tried offering the hand of one of her sons. but that idea fizzled out after diftmark. though it was still obvious that both of the queen's son's still bore a certain mixture of fondness and lust for you.

⌗ the deaths of harwin and laenor broke you. and after the the harrowing night of having to watch aemond lose an eye. you were exhausted. your eyes red and with no tears left to cry. you walked off to find your mother after having just finished packing. only to find her with an unfamiliar man. "mother?" you asked approaching with caution.

⌗ "my darling girl I want you to meet someone this is daemon your father" and for a moment your heart stopped as you looked at the man before you. you had dreamed for so long for the day that you would finally meet your father. and now it was here you didn't know what to do. but fear not as daemon took matters into his own hands. pulling you into his embrace which you gladly accepted. finally you left complete.

⌗ after that time seemed to fly by. your mother and father got married. your brother got betrothed to your half-sisters. and all of you lived happily on dragonstone together. with you and your siblings going for frequent dragon rides together. teaching them high valyrian. listen to your father's many stories he gained from his travels. and letting your mother braid your hair while the two of you giggled about the newest gossip.

⌗ though there was one topic she would never touch. and there were suitors. as princess rhaenyra had received hundreds if not thousands of offers for her daughter's hand. which she all denied. at one point there were so many that daemon restored to using a large chunk of them as kindle for the fire in their room. claiming "none of those vile pig's are good enough for my daughter" to which the heir agreed. the last thing she wanted was for her beloved daughter to be used by some lord as a broodmare.

⌗ but rhaenyra knew that she would have to wed her daughter off at some point. and that scared her. though her eldest was the blood of a dragon. you were gentle and soft. the apple of her eye and the thought of you being hurt. by a man nonetheless made her heart clench. and daemon agreed swearing he would rip any man. regardless of who. if they tried anything with their daughter. which was easy to say as the royal couple were under the impression their daughter's interest hadn't been caught by anyone. but oh how wrong they were.

⌗ see you had indeed had your eyes set on someone. who's name happened to be ben. the first time you saw him was at your name day tourney. where he jousted against a lannister. and won much to your joy. before going on to win the tournament. after asking for your favour. which you gladly gave. and you couldn't help but blush. as you couldn't deny he was attractive. even if he was covered in someone else's blood.

⌗ and so began the beautiful friendship between the two of you. as you went from secret love letters sent by ravens. to flying to see him whenever you could. truth is you were head over heels for him. just as he was for you. you were two half's that made a whole. twin flames if you will. and ben had made it clear that he would give you the world and that all you had to do was ask for it. a sentiment which you reverberated. the two of you had talked about a life together. married and with kids. now all you had to do was tell your parents.

⌗ but oh boy when you decided to tell them. was that an interesting conversation. your father nearly unsheathed dark sister. your mother nearly passed out in horror. your brothers were either confused or looking at benjicot like he was dragon food. and your sisters were smiling from ear to ear. but after they had all settled down you spoke. and the two of you made it very clear that you were madly in love. and after a few more threats from your father and brothers. a couple more happy tears and hugs from your mother and sisters. everyone had made peace with the fact and were overjoyed for the both of you.

⌗ and within the week news had spread to every corner of the seven kingdom's of your betrothal to the blackwood. and with was also said that the men of the kingdom's morned the loss of the chance to marry you by descending on brothels to drink and lay with whores. your uncles included. but you paid little mind. as you enjoyed life within your little bubble. spending your days with your family and benji. life was perfect. and you couldn't wait for the wedding.

⌗ and once the day finally arrived. you were jittery with nerves. dressed head to toe in white. you looked the spitting image of duty. as you walked arm in arm with your father towards the alter. the eyes of hundreds of highborns fixed on you in awe. but all you could focus on was. ben. your ben. as the two of you recited your vows with joy you sealed it with a kiss. and after the celebrations of the night. and your new husband threatening to behead anyone who dares mention a bedding ceremony. the two of you joined select family. from both side. to join for another ceremony. a traditional valyrian wedding. and as you sealed your love once more with a bloody kiss. you now truly had it all.

anon , May I please have a targaryen! reader, daughter of daemon and rhaenyra, born after jace like she looks so much like Aemma, and the kingdom would speak of her as Aemma reborn, being favored by Viserys and her people. Can imagine her claiming a dragon that was rumored to be from the late Balerion’s clutch, a stark contrast to the other she-dragons, with her own being a ferocious creature of black scales and fire of black and red. While she is loved in her kingdom, she is also loved in her family. Much like Helaena, the reader is the apple of the kingdom’s eyes and dearer to her family more than anything. And when the topic of suitors comes, all of them are horrified when the one that catches her eye is the Bloody Ben himself, Benjicot Blackwood. ps. I’m a sucker for a beloved character whom loves someone that is the exact opposite of her 😭💖 Requesting for more familial and platonic fic with the Benjicot romance just maybe being small 😩☝️

Little Doll

Media - The Artful Dodger Character - Jack Dawkins Couple - Jack X Reader Reader - Miss Y/n Y/l/n (Porceline Skin China doll look) Rating - Sweet AF Word Count - 4638

Jack finished up with his work in the theatre heading out as he pushed the sleeves of his white long-sleeved shirt under his blue waistcoat up to his elbows and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. However, he immediately met his eyes with a familiar sight.

Miss Y/n Y/L/N, stood in the main figure of the hospital. She was wearing a pair of tall black boots laced up tightly, a long plaid lavender skirt with a large bird cage crinoline underneath, a white button-down blouse, with a belt tightly around her corseted waist with a silver moth buckle, crisp white gloves, tight waves of Y/H/C curls, with a bow of the same lavender plaid of her skirt, pale porcelain skin with perfectly placed freckles across her nose and cheekbones, and large emerald eyes. Her leather-bound notebook clutched to her chest.

Jack chuckled to himself as he saw her, seeing her made him feel bubbly as she reminded him of one of those beautiful porcelain dolls dressed up and set perfectly. He knew why she was here, and what she wanted. “Morning Miss Y/L/N,”

“Doctor Dawkins!” She turned excitedly, “Just the gentleman I was looking for,”

“Where are you now?” He raised an eyebrow,

“Could I have a word, please?”

“Go on Miss Y/L/N, tell me what you need and quickly I’m a busy man,” He said as he headed through the corridors towards his ward,

“Well firstly, have you given any more thought to allowing me to shadow your surgery silently?” she smiled as she happily followed behind him her skirt bouncing a little as she walked,

“I’ve already told you, you're not allowed in the surgical theatre.” He told her, “I don’t let little girls into surgery,”

“I see.” She nodded, “But secondly, would it be possible for me to shadow an autopsy in the morgue? Please,”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “Alright, But you’re quiet the whole time.”

“I will I promise,”

“Alright come on,”

Jack headed down to the morgue with Y/n following behind him like an excited puppy, Jack began to set things up tying his leather apron around his waist and gathering his clean tools. Y/n closed the door and happily hopped onto an empty table. But Jack merely glared her down and she hopped off the table again,

“Sorry,” She gulped,

“Thank you,” He warned, “Get a stool if you want to sit Miss Y/L/N,”

She nodded excitedly adjusting her skirt as she fetched a stool, bringing it over to the table across from Jack sitting kicking her feet, a smile as wide as a kid on Christmas,

Jack would sighed, and continued working the corpse. "You're excited about this? Aren’t you?"

Y/n shrugged, "I find it all so fascinating" She smiled

"Well if you find this all so fascinating, why don't you get in close and watch my hands closely?"

She giggled and put the books down shuffling her stool over to sit closer to him her nose almost an inch from his hands her eyes wide with excitement,

Jack pointed at the lungs and spoke, "Now these are the lungs, they are what is used to supply the blood with fresh oxygen for the heart to supply the rest of the body. Notice their dark colour, that's a result of the disease. As the disease infected the lungs, it stopped supplying the blood with oxygen." He smiled down at her, "Do you understand?"

"… But how do you know they go that colour because of the disease and is not simply because they're dead?" She asked,

Jack thought on it for a moment, "You sure are a curious one. You're correct it could simply be due to death, but I'm making an educated guess based on prior knowledge. The man we're cutting open had died due to infection, and in turn, I would figure that his lungs would be infected as well due to the way he was coughing. And lo and behold the lungs are dark, that and dark coloured lungs would generally suggest infection."

"but you don't know that you didn't take his lungs out while he was alive,"

"That's a fair point. But as you see his lungs are collapsed. That wouldn't be the case if he was alive, they would be inflated like balloons." He'd poke one of the lungs, "As you can see, they're collapsed, and thus I am making the educated guess that they are infected."

"hummm…" She nodded,

Jack would look down at her, "Are you familiar with Occam's Razor?"

"…no?"

"Occam's Razor is a philosophy that states that you should assume the simplest explanation for something unless further evidence suggests otherwise." Jack explained, "So Occam's Razor in this situation says, the lungs are dark due to infection. I don't have further evidence to suggest otherwise, so therefore… The lungs are dark due to the infection."

"… Whenever you eliminate the impossible whatever remains however improbable must be the truth"

"Precisely. You catch on quite easily." Jack paused for a moment, "Didn't take you for that type."

"I like to read, one of the few things I enjoy father hasn't taken away… And I think that's only because he can't be bothered to read my books to check their subject matter," she explained her fingers wiggling itching to poke, prod and investigate

Jack chuckled at her comment, "You're father sounds like a real charmer." he would say sarcastically. "What, if you had to guess, do you think this man died from?" Jack asked,

"well… You made a point about the darkness of his lungs due to infection however due to the elasticity of the lungs so late Into this stage in the morgue the body didn't die from the lungs giving out, there was scaring in his nose and his eye sockets are swollen out instead of being sunk in. This means the lung infection began as a meer sinus and chest infection which he ignored. And he smoked. Given the discolouration in his nails… I'm going to say he choked to death trying to smoke while having a lung infection" she explained

Jack was stunned by her level of deduction, even going to the level of checking the fingernails. "How in the?" Jack would ask. "Yes that was my observation as well, but your observation about his nails. How could you tell he was a smoker, and how can you tell he was smoking whilst infected?"

"… Tobacco stains the ends of your fingertips yellow over time and causes your nails to turn very sickly due to the lack of good health collagen in the body. He isn't a very old man so he had a thick habit makes sense he'd want to still smoke"

Jack was extremely impressed by her observation, "I can see why you enjoy reading, You're a very good detective. Most women your age are getting married, not reading about murder mysteries!"

"I don't know whether I should be flattered or insulted…" She said "I know most ladies are off at their debutant balls and popping out babies but I don't know, men don't find me very palatable" she said her fingers stroking the exposed rib but she saw him looking so pulled back,

Jack tilted his head, "Men don't find you palatable? That's a shock to me. Most would fall head over heels at first sight." Jack smiled down at her, "Maybe they can read how clever you are, and they're put off at the idea of a young woman being smarter than them."

"Perhaps… I think a lot of it is my… More macabre interests, most men are put off by such things"

"And what exactly are your morbid interests? Are they that offputting?" Jack questioned. He certainly didn't care, if anything he had a rather morbid view of life as well.

"I'm sitting watching an autopsy for fun?" She answered

Jack chuckled, "That's considered off-putting? Sounds like normal curiosity to me." He smirked at her, "I'm curious to know other interests. What else is considered morbid?"

"I read a lot of horrors, a lot of crime stories, I like to research the occult and supernatural, I used to collect small bones but… Father put a stop to that"

Jack chuckled, "What's wrong with collecting bones? Sounds like a perfectly normal hobby. If anything, it sounds kinda cute."

"I used to have a frame filled with bird wing bones that I collected all laid out with diagrams and names but father didn't like it so… He made me burn it"

Jack grimaced at the thought of such a beautiful display burnt to ash. "Did he give a reason for making you burn it?" Jack asked, looking confused "He just sounds like a control freak from what you say."

"he said such things are not becoming of a young lady"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Seems like an excuse for a control freak to burn something you loved. Are there any other interests your father ruined for you?"

"he said I couldn't use and or own a planchette board"

Jack looked down at Y/n, "That spiritual board thing? Why would he not want you using that? Scared you'll find a ghost in the house?"

"ohh I did several they were nice but I think seeing it move freaked him out"

Jack smirked, "Wait, you got them to work?" He asked, sounding quite surprised, "And what about the ghosts you found? What were they like?"

"They were all very nice, I met a nice lady who died in the town in 1656. They burned her as a witch but she's very nice"

Jack tilted his head, "A nice ghost eh?” He chuckled, He thought, "Wait, how in the hell were you using a Phancheeetty- or whatever board that young? You're twenty-four. Did you get one instead of a rocking horse?" he asked jokingly.

"I made one.." she answered sheepishly

Jack looked surprised, "Now that's impressive! Most people would need years and years of supernatural study to get something like that to work, but let me guess. Is that another thing your father burned?" He sounded slightly annoyed on her behalf at the idea of burning it,

"mhm" she nodded

"This father of yours sounds more like a dictator than a father." Jack sighed, "Does he also burn your horror books?"

"no, but I don't tell him what is in the books and he's too lazy to read them and find out"

"At this point, I'm starting to think laziness is a blessing from this tyrant father of yours." Jack paused for a moment, thinking. "Is there anything he hasn't tried to burn?"

"…I'd say me… But he's threatened it before"

Jack's eyes widened at her response, "Wait, you mean to tell me that your FATHER has threatened to burn you?" He was slightly taken aback, he couldn't understand a parent being so abusive.

"he was worried I was becoming a witch"

Jack's face darkened. "I have a feeling this man should never have been allowed to have children."

His face lightened slightly, "Have you been intrigued by the supernatural since you were a child?"

"mhm, I don't know why I find it all so fascinating. I suppose it's just another form of religion at the end of the day. Some people read the bible every day, go to church, sit in their room read tarot cards and go for walks in the graveyard secretly hoping they can find a pet bat"

Jack's lips twitch at the idea of Y/n with a bat as a pet, "That is quite a lovely analogy. Most women would probably be disgusted at the idea of walking through a graveyard. But you love it." He smiled down at her, "You're an interesting one Y/n Y/L/N."

"thank you Doctor Dawkins" she giggled as she happily poked at the heart

Jack's eyes widened slightly as she called him Doctor Dawkins, it felt nice to hear, instead of Doctor Jack or just plain Jack. "No problem, Y/n." He smiled down at her, it felt nice to speak with her.

"So what is your opinion on supernatural and ghosts and all that?" Jack would ask in a curious tone.

“My Maid says I use to talk to ghosts when I was little say things I couldn't have known any other way, it makes sense I mean… Humans sort of exist in two parts the body and the soul, when he body dies soul has to go somewhere"

"That's not a common belief you know Y/n. Most people would say you're insane or crazy for thinking that the dead can linger around in ghost form." Jack smiled, "I think you're very intelligent, seeing the world as it really is. What about the supernatural? Does that exist?"

"I suppose the undead are possible if a soul was to re-enter a dead body. Demons and spirits seem possible just higher ranking ghosts, cryptids make sense too I mean I wouldn't be that surprised to hear a large yeti thing exists, some big bear that walks on its legs covered In white fur and fangs, when you think about it a tall long neck spotted creature with thin legs is just how anyone would describe a giraffe"

Jack found himself nodding at her explanation. "I've never had anyone else look at the supernatural so… Logically. You certainly have a unique view on the world." He smiled, "And what of the idea of vampires. Do you think they could exist?"

"people are weird I'm sure someone out there as licked blood, liked it, and kept doing it" she shurgged

Jack snorted at her response, "True that. I can think of many things worse than a blood fetish. You seem to have a very logical view on the supernatural, as if magic can be explained with science."

"I think all magic is just science we have yet to explain. I'm sure one day the human soul and where it goes well be explained by science and maybe it does linger on a way we would call a ghost we're just not there yet. I mean a few thousand years ago they probably thought tiny people can clockworks machines inside us to make or organs work" she giggled looking at the body he worked on with such thrill and excitement

Jack smiled down at her, she really was a unique one. Logical yet curious. She had a sort of endearing personality. "That is probably one of the most unique and interesting takes on science and magic I've ever heard." Jack chuckled softly, "You’d make a very good doctor Miss Y/L/N, You certainly have the mind for it, and the curiosity of a child."

"father wouldn't allow it, the only reason I'm allowed to linger in the hospital is because I lied to father. He thinks I'm at dance classes"

Jack rolled his eyes at that. "Again, I can't blame you. He sounds like quite the dictator. What exactly does he want you to become? A baby factory?"

"a trade for a business deal I suppose, and then a baby factory."

Jack grimaced at Y/n's response. "You're father sounds like a real piece of work." Jack was quite frustrated at the father, just the way Y/n spoke about him made him infuriated.

"he's old fashioned is all" she shurgged "not a very modern man." She giggled

Jack looked at her with a slightly stern expression, "You shouldn't make excuses for him. That man's a control freak and a dictator." Jack was slightly annoyed at her shrugging and laughing her fathers faults off.

"I suppose…" She said too focused on her fun she was having with the body

Jacks sighed, he couldn't force her to get angry. "You certainly have a way of not letting the mood get grim, don't you." He smirked, "How are you even having fun in a morgue with corpses around you?"

"I did say I was morbid"

Jacks chuckled, "No kidding, you seem more fascinated by a corpse than I do, and it's my job to look at them."

"you see them everyday, I imagine surgery must be fascinating" she smiled

Jack smirked slightly when she mentioned surgery, it was something his was passionate about, and Y/n clearly had some interest. He looked down at her with a curious expression, "Why do you sound sad? Did you want to watch a surgery? You know hospitals don't allow young ladies in the surgery theatre."

"I know… But I'd like to, it's not fair the men all get to pay a penny and watch I'd pay a whole shilling"

Jacks snorted with laughter at her response, she certainly had an adorable innocence to her. He gave her a fond smile, "That would be quite the sight to see you sitting beside some gentlemen in a theatre next to a surgery. But Y/n, aren't ladies meant to be fainting at the sight of blood?"

"ladies see more blood then men" she answered

Jacks eyes widened slightly, but then he started laughing, "You really are quite unlike other girls. And you are certainly observant." Jack looked at her, "If you don't mind me asking, how much blood have you seen? Other then that which comes from a period."

"… Some" she answered sheepishly

Jacks smirked softly, he could guess how she would have seen more then most girls. "You make me wonder if most girls would faint at the sight of my work. Though you seem quite interested."

"I'm sure most would"

Jack chuckled softly, "Most likely, you might be the only one who could handle the sight of a surgery. Though most ladies would either faint or be horrified." He smiled, "What would your father think of you if you had an aptitude for surgery and medicine?"

"… Lock me in my room I imagine"

Jacks expression darkened, "That man really is a monster isn't he." His tone was dark as he spat the word monster, a wave of anger washed over him at the image of Y/n being locked away in her room for having an interest her father didn't like.

"… He's… Protective I suppose"

Jacks expression immediately lightened when she responded, and he shook his head with a chuckle, "You're too kind. Just the idea of that man locking you in your room for enjoying something he didn't like made me enraged and you call that protective?"

"I guess so… Don't know what else to call it" she explained as the autopsy was now finished with "doctor Dawkins?"

Jack raised an eyebrow slightly, "What is it Y/n?" He inquired curiously.

"can… Can I sew it up? I'll be ever so careful I promise."

Jack smirked slightly, "You want to try stitching it up?" He inquired. He found the idea of Y/n suturing a stitched up corpse quite endearing, she certainly was an eccentric young lady.

she nodded excitedly

Jack smiled, "All right. You can try stitching the body up."

He began to instruct her on what to do, as he prepared surgical thread and surgical needle to try and make the process a bit easier for Y/n.

she giggled and happily sat taking the needle and thread she was slow and careful stitching like fabric she needed to be corrected a few times but he just loomed over her shoulder watching her inhaling her soft lavender perfume

Jack inhaled her gentle lavender scent, finding it quite soothing. It wasn't often a lady with a perfume walked into a morgue and happily tried to suture a body.

Jack couldn't help but softly smirk she was quite the sight, the sweet young lady sat on the stool her feet didn't even touch the floor, her sweet Lilac skirt around her, her beuatiful curls pulled back with a matching bow, needle in her bloody hands, a somewhat wicked smile on her lips and a gentle humming in her throat she was so happy she smiled and even hummed a little song as she sutured the body to perfection Jack couldn't help but watch Y/n, it was an amusing and endearing sight seeing her happily sat on the stool, stitching up the body. And even more amused by the sight of a bloody needle in her dainty little hands.

A thought suddenly struck Jack, "What if your father saw you like this? Working beside a me, cutting into a body with a bloody needle. How do you think he would react?" Jack inquired with a smirk.

"he'd lock me in my room, have a preacher stand outside and shout bible verses at me. Or sell me off to India"

Jack snorted with laughter at Y/n's response. He knew he probably shouldn't Laugh because it wasn't a joke to Y/n. But for some reason, the idea of Y/n being locked away in a room with a preacher standing outside shouting bible verses at her sounded humorous. Maybe it was because he found Y/n such an interesting young lady. "What a lovely father you have Miss Y/L/N." Jack commented sarcastically, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"he's not good but he's mine"

Jack smirked slightly at Y/n's response, he understood why she defended her father. It was normal to want to defend someone despite their flaws and behaviour. but he couldn't help but wonder what kind of father would treat his daughter like Y/n's father did. Locking her away for having an interest, treating her like she's just for baby making… Jack couldn't help but feel disdain towards Y/n's father,

Jack glanced at Y/n again, he couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle when he saw the amount of blood on her hands. Some had even splattered on the delicate material of her outfit. Jack found it both endearing and amusing. He knew that a lady like her wouldn't want blood on her clothes but at the same time there was something captivating about seeing a doll like her with bloodied hands. A doll he pondered, she reminds him of a doll, the sweet polcerline and china dolls lined in toy store windows in sweet dresses with perfect hair. But now she looked like a haunted doll covered in blood with a wicked little smile, Jack continued working, still observing Y/n with mild amusement.

she happily sat watching him work, "hummm…" She ponders "sorry… I'll be quiet doctor Dawkins"

Jack shook his head, no longer laughing as Y/n tried to apologise.

"No, no, Y/n no apologies." He gave her a fond smile, "Don't apologise or get shy for your enjoyment. iT’S fascinating, especially when you don't hide them as much as most girls do." He glanced at Y/n, "If I was to be honest, your unique thoughts is probably why I find you so fascinating. The way you think isn't like most ladies. And I honestly find it endearing, especially your thoughts on corpses and science."

she blushed a little

"That's that done." Jack said with a smile.

she nodded "all done, slightly disappointing to put all that work in just to bury him"

Jack looked down at the body and nodded, he couldn't disagree with her there. "Yes, it is a strange thing. We spend all that time looking into a dead body, yet at the end we just bury them and move on to the next mystery." Jack then looked at Y/n, "There's something I've been wanting to ask you."

"yes doctor Dawkins?" She asked cleaning off her hands

Jack smirked as he watched Y/n clean her hands of blood. He knew most ladies wouldn't even want to touch blood with a ten foot pole, and yet Y/n was happy to just sit with her hands in blood, cutting up a body. If it was any other woman, Jack would find it unsettling. But on Y/n it just seemed endearing. "I have noticed that you have a very interesting way of thinking Y/n. In regard to the supernatural and life." He commented.

"I do?"

Jacks nodded, his smirk widening, "Yes you do. You don't seem to be afraid of the mysteriousness of life. I've also noticed you have an interest in death and corpses." His tone was gentle, he was still slightly amused by the amount of dried blood on the dainty young lady. He couldn't help but find her doll like appearance coupled with her thoughts endearing. "You are definitely not like most young ladies."

"I guess not…" She said but her tone turned sad as she finished cleaning her hands even if the blood had left a slight red stain on her pale skin "your going to tell me it's unbecoming of a lady too? Tell me I should use my wine to find a good husband…" She sighed "I wouldn't bother you anymore if you don't want me to doctor Dawkins"

Jacks expression immediately darkened at her response and he reached out and cupped Y/n's cheeks with his hands. He couldn't stand her being sad. "Please don't ever think for a second that I wish for you to stop coming here. You're a fascinating girl. I look forward to your visits." Now his tone was softer and slightly affectionate, "And don't you dare think that you're unbecoming of a lady, you're perfect just how you are. Don't listen to anyone who says otherwise."

she blushed hard her freckled cheeks turned pink, but she stepped back so his hands left her cheeks "thank you doctor Dawkins…"

Jack smiled gently as Y/n blushed at his compliment. He hoped he had managed to prevent her from feeling upset. However, he couldn't help but feel slight disappointment when she stepped back, it felt nice holding her cheek and seeing her blush. "You're welcome Miss Y/L/N." His smile widened and then he smirked, "I do hope you still come and visit my morgue."

"I hope to doctor Dawkins" she nodded "thank you so much for such a lovely day, I hope you have a nice rest of your evening" she smiled

Jacks smiled once more in response and watched as Y/n prepared to exit the morgue. He couldn't help but feel slightly… Disappointed she was leaving already. Sure Jack was normally glad when work was over, but this time he felt like he didn't want it to end and for Y/n to leave. He was starting to become fascinated with the unique and adorable young woman more and more.

She picked up her parasol and her small hat giving him a small polite curtsy before she heads out the morgue.

Jack watches her as she goes watching how her crinoline causes her lilac skirt to sway side to side as she walks, her Y/H/C curls and her little bow, he couldn't help thinking of her lavender scent, of her happy excited smile, of all the words they shared… Of the sight of her sewing the body, hands covered in blood, smiling and humming. Y/n… His little doll

He can't help thinking of her as his morbid macabre haunted little doll

Jacks stood watching Y/n leave the morgue, he couldn't help his eyes following her. As she left the room he felt something strange. He missed her already, and he couldn't help but notice how adorable she was when she did her little curtsy. How beautiful her dress swayed with her crinoline. He loved hearing her sweet little voice, every word she said fascinated him, and of course he couldn't help notice the way her hair fell slightly loose with her bow sitting just perfect.

… And then the realisation hit him. Oh dear.

Jacks felt an icy cold realisation wash over him as he stood there still watching the door Y/n had just left through. Oh…. No…. Not good… No….

Now he realised what this weird feeling was for Y/n.

He realised why he got so protective whenever Y/n mentioned her father.

He realised why he found her thoughts fascinating.

He… He…

He was starting to have feelings for Y/n.

Jack was completely dumbfounded by his recent realisation, and he felt a mixture of emotions.

Panic. Because if Y/n's father found out that he had feelings for her he would kill him.

Fear. Because he knew Y/n's father was the type of man to cause Y/n a lot of suffering for having feelings for someone he didn't approve of.

And… Hope? Because Jack knew that if he managed to win Y/n over he could possibly bring her away from that horrid man and into his arms where he could hold her close and let her watch autopsies and surgeries to the content of her morbid little haunted doll heart.

Oh… He definitely had feelings for Y/n.

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Masterlist

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut, dirty talk, oral (both receiving), praise, slight degradation, slight d/s vibes, Brat!Reader, Jealous!Rhaenyra, Jealous!Daemon, canon-typical violence

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra, AU:No Dance of Dragons, playful dynamic, Modern!Reader in HOTD!World

Status: Ongoing

Description:

Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?! Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them. AKA: You fall through worlds and wake up in our favorite blondes’ bed. SHAMELESS “reader falls into HOTD world from our world” trope (I’m sorry, I CANNOT help myself, I’m a sucker for them). There’s not really a plot plot, but if you stay long enough we might run into one.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9...coming soon

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Could you do a fic with viserys being like obsessed with his second wife after aemma and they have like dozens of kids pls?

AN: Hi, i hope you like it x

“Is the heir to the throne bothering you, Tyland?” Viserys whispered from his seat at the top of the table. The sight at the other end had amusement on many faces in the room as the little four year old climbed in the chair; already reaching for his favourite toy, which unfortunately for Tyland was the ball he was a little too attached with. “No..no, of course not, your grace.” The worried Lord whispered out as the young babe only reached for the ball again and this time was able to keep a hold of it. Viserys could only smile with complete warmth as his cup was filled. Rhaenyra smiled down at her father as she fought against the giggle that threatened to escape her at her brother’s antics.

Viserys’ gaze softened as he observed his children, the future of the realm, and he felt a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of rulership. “Perhaps,” Viserys mused, his voice carrying the hint of a chuckle, “young Aegon is preparing for his future duties.” Aegon only clapped his hands at the words coming from his father. Tyland managed a nervous smile as he rested back into the chair; allowing the young Prince to keep his prize.

“My queen –.” The voice of a king’s guard moved into the room as the large, wooden doors fell open. Viserys’ smile widened completely as he slowly sat up straighter. The mere sight of his wife had happiness radiating from him. The red of his house hugged her curves as she gracefully stepped into the room. The Queen’s eyes scanned the room, pausing briefly on each familiar face, before settling on her husband. A soft, knowing smile played on her lips as she made her way towards the head of the table. The room seemed to light up with her arrival, in Viserys’ eyes that was as the murmurs of the Lords present quieted in respect.

“My love,” Viserys greeted her with a warmth that many had suspected would never reach his eyes again after the loss of his first wife. Still, it was clear to see as he rose to his feet. “You grace us with your presence.” She inclined her head slightly, her smile never wavering. “I could not resist joining my family this morning.” Aegon, momentarily distracted from his prized ball, looked up at his mother with a gleeful exclamation. “Mother!” Rhaenyra moved to greet her stepmother as well; her previous amusement giving way to genuine affection. It warmed Viserys’ heart once more to see such an interaction; he had worried about his daughter’s reaction to a new wife for her father.

Alas, there was no worry to be needed as his daughter enjoyed the presence of his Queen nearly as much as he did. She gently cupped Rhaenyra’s cheek and lent in to press a soft kiss to her cheek in greeting. “It seems I’ve missed some excitement already,” she remarked, subtly looking towards Tyland, who still looked somewhat flustered. Viserys chuckled. “Just a small lesson in patience for Lord Tyland.” The King looked back towards the struggling prince as he fought to stand. The queen could only giggle; her hand moving towards the small bump of hers that seemed to be growing each day before she gracefully stepped towards her young son. His hands reached out eagerly towards her.

She gently brushed Aegon’s cheek. “Good morning, my little sun,” she said softly, eyes full of warmth and love. Aegon giggled, clutching his ball tightly with one hand whilst the other found its way into his mother’s grasp. Viserys watched the tender exchange with his heart full. His eyes moving towards his wife’s bump to his children. Rhaenyra stood nearby; her smile warm as she observed the scene. Moments like these were her favourite as titles and responsibilities melted away. The Queen rose, lifting Aegon into her arms with practised ease. “I shall take this little one to his lessons now. I do believe you have had too much fun so early.”

Aegon pouted slightly but clung to his mother, understanding his playtime was over for the moment. “But mother…” He began, his protests trailing off as he saw the gentle but firm look in her eyes. Viserys chuckled softly. “Listen to your mother, Aegon. She knows what is best.” The King had made his way back to the seat whilst his eyes had never left her. The Queen ducked her head; a soft pink coming over her cheeks as she shifted Aegon more comfortably on her hip. Rhaenyra stepped forward, brushing a stray lock of hair from Aegon’s forehead. “I’ll come visit you soon.” The Princess promised much to the little boy’s delight. 

“You would like to see your brother and sister, hmm?” She whispered; pressing a kiss to Aegon’s head before looking over her shoulder once more as the doors to the council room fell shut. His small arms wrapped around her neck as he nodded with enthusiasm, his early reluctance now completely forgotten about.

~

“I love you,” Viserys whispered into her hair; their naked bodies glowing in the aftermath of love as the covers slowly fell from their bodies. She only nestled closer to him as a soft smile played on her lips. “I love you, my King,” she murmured back, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around them. Viserys gently tilted her chin up, his eyes meeting hers with complete tenderness. “You give me the courage to face each day. Your love…your strength.” His words had her reaching to stroke his cheek as she gently shushed him. “You are stronger than you know.” The Queen whispered as she leaned in; brushing their noses together.

His hand gently reached for her soft bump; gently stroking whilst the Queen could only look down and smile. “I think we may have all the children we need, hmm?” She teased, which only caused the King to chuckle and shake his head. “No..not nearly enough.” He replied, his voice filled with affection. “Each one is a blessing.” 

His hand slowly moved between her thighs now, cupping her sweet, wet pussy. “And you seem to enjoy the process, hmm?” A smirk tugged on his lips as his thumb began to brush over her pretty, sensitive clit. The night was far from over as his desire only built.

Tyland brought his youngest daughter to a meeting one and she was absolutely fascinated with the ball. Only this time he had an even harder time getting it back from her. He thinks that it’s worse than when Jaehaerys took it, because this time it’s his baby.

He got stern with her exactly once, but then her eyes started to well up with tears and he immediately gave it back to her. He’s lowkey relieved when his wife comes to get her for a nap. His wife also teases him when she sees how stressed he is, she says you couldn’t say no to her could you? Let me guess she started her crocodile tears didn’t she and you just gave in? While she kisses his cheek and makes him blush.

!!!!!!

Tyland cannot win at all; he gives everything to his girls and can't say no to them for anything.

His wife loves teasing him; a smirk on her lips as she brings the now nearly asleep babe into her arms whilst their daughter clutches at the ball still

Imagine after Laena's funeral, Daemon doesn't marry Rhaenyra. Instead, he marries her daughter (Viserys's favorite grandchild).

Daemon secretly marries her in the Valyrian wedding ceremonie with Baela, and Rhaena (who were happy to have Rhaenyra's daughter as their new stepmother since they quickly formed a bond with her) as their witnesses to it. After the wedding, they went back to essos to live there. While they got to essos, the entirety of the targaryen/velaryon family started freaking out cause Rhaenyra's daughter is missing. But soon Rhaenyra finds a letter her daughter wrote to her, telling her everything she quickly showed Viserys, Laenor and Rhaenys not knowing what to do but they couldn't help her, Laenor and Rhaenys were to shocked while Viserys was to mad considering he couldn't do anything. While in essos Daemon, Rhaenyra's daughter, Baela and Rhaena were a happy little family only worrying about Rhaenyra's daughter's pregnancy and her giving birth, not knowing what was happening back in the seven kingdoms.

yes please !!

We deserve a cute little family thank you very much. Essos seemed like such a nice place to live as well!!

After Gwayne finds out that his wife is pregnant, his crisis’s get worse. Now he has to worry about her and the baby being seduced away from him. He reaches his breaking point once she starts to show.

He’s down on his knees with his head resting on her stomach and his hands holding her hips crying about she can’t leave him. She thinks at first he’s talking about her possibly dying so she says she can’t guarantee that she won’t. Gwayne starts to cry even harder after she says that because he honestly forgot she could die. But between sobs he explains that his family is trying to take her away from him and he can’t lose her to them.

At that point she just laughs while pulling him up off his knees and tells him he’s the only one for her. That their babe will only know Gwayne as its father, she’ll refuse to remarry if something happens to him. It definitely goes along way to reassure him of her love.

But he’s still nervous when Helaena and especially Alicent come to take her to lunch. He watches how Alicent touches her like a hawk.

Gwayne is so stupid sometimes, it adorable ;)

She strokes his hair as he never leaves her that first night; they cuddle before falling asleep in complete bliss

What are you doing here?!

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aeron Bracken Couple - Aeron X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Lyanna Blackwood Rating - Sexy AF (Mild Smut) Word Count - 1475

Aeron Bracken arrived back to his chambers after a rather long day of dealing with his uncle’s orders, he was exhausted eager to get to his chambers and his bed. However rather unexpectedly he found the fire already lit, candles lit around the room, the soft scent of Petrichor in the air, and the chamber of Stone Hedge cosy and comforting.

However, Aeron nearly dropped his jaw as he saw the sweet sight laid upon his bed.

As Lyanna Blackwood lay in his bed!

Lyanna laid on her back with her head dangling off the end of the bed, her usual boots kicked off by the bedside, her legs up, bare feet kicking around in the air, wearing a black gown that had fallen gathering around her hips, her hair in a braid falling to the floor, in her hand one of the small well painted wooden horses’ that Aeron had kept in his room since childhood.

Aeron’s tired, sweaty figure looked dishevelled and bewildered, his brow furrowing at the sight of her, Aeron’ eyes raked her form laid on his bed, his mouth nearly watering at the view, before eventually finding his voice and speaking up.

“What are you doing here?!” he asked the fear and concern flooding in his voice almost too scared to raise it,

"good afternoon to you too, Aeron" Lyanna smiled wickedly purposely teasing him,

“How- How did you even her in here?!” His tone was full of alarm,

“Window was unlocked,” She shrugged,

He took a breath running his hand over his face, into the roots of his light brown hair, taking a moment before he spoke, “Do you… have any idea… the trouble you could get us both in!” His volume crawled up,

“I missed you,” She smiled with a playful pout,

And he gave in, “You would not believe how much I missed you,” he confessed lowly, reaching his bed and climbing in to sit over her, taking the horse toy from her hand and setting it down on his night stand before his arms snaking around her waist,

Lyanna giggled as he immediately attached himself to her,

“You can’t keep doing this Lyly, You could get us both in so much trouble, at least send me a raven that you are coming, who knows who could have walked in and found you here,” He reminds her, “You know Stone Hedge isn’t safe for you, As Raventree Hill is not for me. We must meet places secretly,” He said playfully peppering her throat and chest with kisses,

“But then we have to snuggle in the muddy woods, rather than your nice big warm bed,” She whimpers batting her eyes to make him melt,

“Is that so?” his smirk grew on his lips as he slowly moved to sit on his bed tugging her waist with him to pull her onto his lap so he could look at her better. He hummed quietly before resting a hand on her thigh in a gentle grip, his thumb rubbing small circles on the cloth gown. “You like my big bed better then?”

“So how much exactly did you miss me while I was out doing my training?”

Lyanna giggled resting her hands on his chest and rubbing her nose on his, "Very very much, I miss your bed," she cooed stroking up and down his chest,

Aeron practically melted into the touch, feeling her rubbing her nose against his and hands stroking over his chest his breath practically hitching at the action. He gently pulled her closer, almost completely against his chest. “You know, I missed you a lot more,” he murmured against your skin before he began to press kisses up and down her neck,

"did you? Maybe I should come visit more often," She teased squeezing her thighs around him a little,

Aeron hummed under his breath as he continued to trail his kisses on her neck, “I’d have you here every day if I could,” he mumbled, “Seven Hells, I’ve missed you,” he said with a low voice, practically looking at her like a man starved.

"You would? You’d want me here every day, laid waiting on your bed for you to come home?" She whispered in his ear,

Aeron shuddered, his breath hitching He felt his mind already beginning to race with thoughts of her lying on his bed waiting for him every night, he clutched her almost possessively against him, his forehead falling against her shoulder. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again. “Gods,” he whispered. “Must you torment me with such beauty,”

“Oh? You wouldn’t want me laid waiting for you?” She teased,

“Lyly, You’re not making this easy for me.” he groaned under his breath, his hand that was on her hip slowly beginning to roam its way up her side, his heart thrumming fast. His mind wandered to do to her, “Lyanna… don’t tease me,” Aeron murmured lowly, he took his time dragging his thumb across her rib, feeling her skin slightly shiver under his touch, before slowly trailing his hand back up to trace her collarbone. He could feel his heart thrumming in his chest, his breathing becoming shallower, and his eyes roamed over her form, feeling his mind slowly become consumed by her, as well as the sinful thoughts that began to swirl in his head.

“When… When do you…” he began, his voice quiet and barely above a whisper, “…When do you need to be back to Raventree?”

"Dawn," She cooed,

Aeron inhaled shakily, the imagery and thought of her in his bed… all night. He gently pulled her down hard against himself leaving no inch of them disconnected, his hands wrapped around her like a vice, practically holding her captive on his lap.

"Aeron!" She laughed shifting her hips as she felt his stiff cock under her,

He didn’t even know how he managed to string his words together as he spoke, but his voice was noticeably heavier and slightly rasped. “Will you stay… all night?”

“Maybe,” She teased,

Aeron buried his face in her neck and groaned lightly, the movement of her body only making him harder. He tightened his arms around her waist, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to collect himself, but he was already losing control. “Gods, what are you doing to me?” he mumbled his lips trailing up and down the skin, leaving behind soft kisses.

"Don't be foolish you know exactly what I'm doing," She giggled,

Aeron’s breath hitched, his hands gripping her hips like a lifeline. The movement only served to force his cock to its utter limit of stiffness, and it took all he has to not buck his hips upwards desperate to force a sweet sound from her lips. “Gods… you’re so cruel,” he whispered, slowly trailing his kisses to her ear, giving it a soft bite.

"Cruel? I’m just helping my poor Bracken after seeing how he missed me so badly," she seductively cooed in his ear,

Aeron let out a shaky breath, He pressed his face against her neck, his breath coming out in pants as he slowly began to lose control, the pace of her movements against him only adding fuel to the fire. He tried to speak further, but all that came out of his throat was needy little sounds as he clutched her closer to him, his eyes squeezed shut. “Gods, yes… yes I know… I want you so badly…”

She chuckled and kissed down his neck "Well then, since you missed me so badly Aeron, I suppose I could help? Would the rest of tonight tie my poor horny boy over?"

Aeron shuddered his head falling back against the bedboard, and his eyes squeezed shut as he felt the fire inside him only grow hotter. He choked out a slightly desperate whimper as her touch and words continued to rile him up to no end. “Gods yes…” he pleaded breathlessly, his hand gently grasping a fistful of her hair, “Please…”

Lyanna chuckled and picked a spot on his neck where she bit down sucking on his skin, lapping her tounge against him,

Aeron let out a shaky moan that was borderline whorish as he felt her give him a deep love bite, the mark only serving to set his mind ablaze. His hand tightened its grip on her hair, and his entire figure shuddered beneath her, almost like a bow pulled taut against a string, his breathing coming out in needy pants as he tried and failed to form words to speak. “Gods, don’t stop… please, don’t stop…”

"This what you want Aeron?"

"Yes! Yes, yes... it's what I want Lyanna... Please..."

She chuckled fixing a stray piece of his hair, "What's the magic word?"

He let out a small moan on his gasp, knowing full well what she wanted taking a moment to collect himself before he spoke, "I love you..."

"I love you too," She smiled finally pulling his lips to hers in a deep intimate kiss. 

Part two

“Fires of Fidelity”

Rhaenys Targaryen x Female Reader

wc : 4800+

cw : ambiguous relationships // description of violence which i wouldn’t call graphic but it depends i guess // there’s smut towards the end, also not very explicit but then again, it depends :’)) // i am OBSESSED with her hair, so it would only make sense that my reader is also obsessed

rook’s rest doesn’t exist for me 🥰 fuck rook’s rest, and happiest of birthdays to my absolute badass of a queen 🥳🎂 but fuck her too (affectionate)

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The market is teeming with hustle and bustle of common folks. A cacophony of vendors shouting and shoppers strolling around, alongside an undertone of your lady’s heeled boots kissing gravel throbs inside your ears, softened only by the cloak that you are currently shrouded under.

Overhead, clouds hang heavy, a grim portrait of gloomy greys and ivory whites, the sun but a vague presence in the silver-lined edges. No shadows paint the ground aside from you who is hot on your lady’s heels. Everywhere she walks, you follow, akin to a shadow perpetually casted on the ground.

Meanwhile, a few children scamper around you, shouting, laughing, and one comes astray, collides with your lady before she continues scurrying on her jolly little way, blissfully unaware. The sudden jostle has the precarious effect on the body in front of you for you notice the break in rhythm of the feet that are taking graceful steps. All at once, you are directly behind her, the gentle sway of her body braced by a stable palm across her back.

“Careful, Prin-” Eyes, a milky-way of green and brown, render you quiet. You are, after all, accompanying your Princess on her covert little trip to town.

Nevertheless, a token of her gratitude follows in the form of the tiniest hint of a smile that beautifully graces her features. Disguised beneath the cloak though her head is, given the close proximity of your bodies, you are granted an audience with wisps of moon-kissed locks caressing the delicate plane of her forehead.

“Walk next to me.” She says, and donning a playful smile, you drop a whisper directly into her ears. “As my lady commands.”

Aloofness shrouds her mien, lips a firm line, although it is not lost on you that there is a twinkle in her eyes, the cause of which dawns on you as soon as a sly hand disappears into the privacy of your cloak. Two of her digits waste no time in pinching your flesh through the fabric of your cloth. Pain blossoms, bringing with it a small wince to your face.

When her fingers remain unrelenting, a grumble flies past your lips, “I jest. I jest.” And only then does she relent with a hum, feet never faltering as you walk abreast, her body the very picture of cool and collected save a smile touching her lips.

“I have promised gifts for my granddaughters. What do you think would delight them?”

“Well, I’m afraid I’m the worst person you could have turned to for such suggestions.”

“Indulge me, then. Go on.”

Ever the woman of queenly manner, even her cadence oozes charisma. It colours your cheeks rosy, bringing forth memories from which the delightful utterance has graced your ears under more intimate circumstances.

“I don’t know.” You begin by clearing your throat, a shrug on your shoulders as you walk. “Perhaps a kiss on their cheeks would suffice? I know for a fact that it would delight me greatly.”

Being both a Princess and a Dragonrider, your lady looks every bit the epitome of poise and gravitas. Seldom does she wear her emotions on her face, head held high and spine ram-rod straight, always an enchanting enigma except to trained eyes which, as a matter of fact, are few and far between, although an aura of authority is effortlessly, perpetually crowned on her Targaryen head. However, having spent a better part of your years by her side, during formal as well as more personal occasions, you have mastered the art of unravelling the subtleties of her features and nuances of her words.

It is how you find yourself now, raising a hand in faux surrender along with a defensive arm across your waist by merely a slight tilt of her head and a gaze to your face.

“Again, I jest.”

In the vicinity of the place where you currently stand, a ruckus suddenly arises, a heated argument between two vendors, it appears, which quickly fans the flames of a full-blown uproar. A crack of thunder is a prelude to the heavy drizzle that descends upon the crowd as fists are thrown, and like a carcass attracting vultures, the fight lures those who have an innate thirst for violence.

While the chaos unfolds, your sole focus is solemnly fixed on the Princess by your side, all the more so because a plethora of people are darting around in panic. You do not know, have no time to seek what your lady’s wishes are as instinct forces you to act. Taking her waist in your arm, you tuck her body into a nook as delicately as possible.

A desperate attempt on your part to narrowly escape the wagon that whizzes past leaves your bodies fitted together, your lady’s back pressed against the wall with your hand behind her head softening the impact. Her breath caresses your face, and the perfumed air is tentalising, fruity with sweet floral notes alongside something that is entirely her.

Meanwhile, the downpour has become more merciless, and you commit to memory the way raindrops cling to her lashes like tiny diamonds.

“Have anyone ever told you that you have such beautiful eyelashes, Princess?”

An arch of an eyebrow accompanies the dainty little rain-soaked lips as they curve into a dizzying smile.

“Evidently, I have.”

“So it seems.” You chuckle, step away, although not before you have adjusted her cloak in such a way that it will offer her face more protection against the rain. “I’m afraid you’ll have to cut your trip short, my lady.”

“It would appear so.”

“Shall we return to the castle then?”

Rivulets of rain travel down your cheeks, and your lady invites herself into your space, mirroring your movement from a while ago as fingers fix the hood on your head, supple in their movements.

“Yes, let’s return home.”

Home.

Home to you is not a place, but rather, a person. A person to whom you have sworn loyalty, to protect, to kill for, and should the need arise, to give your life for. Simply put, your home is by your Princess’s side, and hence, the subtle admission that the castle is as much a home to you as it is to her becomes the culprit behind the joyful little swell of your heart.

The short journey back to the castle is taken by way of a detour, in which you lead your lady through quiet alleyways, except that they are too deserted, almost suspiciously so. Once you reach the town square, you guide your lady to the exit on the other side, a hand on her back as you match her pace.

Beyond the archway, a hooded person is looming out of the darkness, and no sooner have you registered their dubious presence than your hand is grabbing your lady’s waist to urge her behind your body.

“Well, well, look who we have here.”

You recognise the voice to be that of a person from your life before your Princess, a thug who has had unsavoury history with you.

“I don’t have time for your tomfoolery.”

Mockery drips from your lips as you turn, taking your lady by her arm to leave through another archway, but to your vexation, you find that more hooded hooligans have obstructed your path. Hidden beneath your cloak is a sword attached to your hip. Closing your fingers around the hilt of it, you scan your surroundings with a surreptitious move of your eyes. There is a total of five people, six if you include the man standing behind you.

“Don’t you mean, you have no time at all because you see, me and my boys, we’re about to end you right here.”

He taunts you with his words, his insufferable tone grating on your nerves, and irked, you unsheathe your sword, just in time to swivel on your feet and parry his slash, a clang echoing through the alley when your blades collide. At the same time as you hold your stance, a strong kick is unleashed to his chest. The force of it sends him sprawling across the ground, and you let loose a snicker.

“All bark and no bite, eh?”

From your left and right, two of his lapdogs charge at you, and your blade effortlessly cuts through the air in a blur of sharp counterattacks and swift manoeuvres. You make quick work of them, one stab through the abdomen, another through the chest, and they are nothing but marionettes severed of strings, drowning in a pool of their own blood. Following in the wink of an eye is a shower of three more swords that descends upon you in full force, and you block them with your blade, raised horizontally above your head. No matter how well-trained you are, the combined strength of three against one is proving to be a little beyond your endurance.

Your knee has barely braced against the muddy ground when all of a sudden, one of your opponents drops dead, the Velaryon seahorse adorned hilt of a dagger which is embedded in his back letting you know that it has been a product of your lady’s great finesse.

Until now, all of their attention has been fixated on you, but now that your lady has divulged her capabilities, the two lapdogs disperse, one rushing towards your lady with a cry while the other swings his blade at you with renewed vigour. Every inch of your body screams at you to rush to your lady’s side, but the wretched little demon in front of you is giving you no leeway, lavishing you with onslaughts upon onslaughts of attacks, one of which, in your desperation to end him quickly, manages to catch you in your cloak.

“Stay focused, tigress.” As if sensing your distress, your Princess calls out to you. “Don’t worry about me.”

One touch of her voice and fire meets gasoline, the flame within you burning so fiercely that you let out a loud roar.

“Come on! Come at me, you cunt of a coward!!”

Having his feather ruffled by your gibe, he charges at you once more, but when the blade comes, rather than avoiding it, you catch it between your arm and body, trapping the sword and its wielder in place as you push your blade through his chest so hard that a good few length of it escapes through his back. Blood pours out of his sorry little mouth, and retrieving your sword from his body effectively drops him to the ground.

Your lady’s strikes, not as refined though they are as yours, can easily withstand a vermin whose attacks are disorganized at best. Furthermore, she is swift on her feet, wielding the agility of a crane whereas you possess the strength of a tigress, or so your Princess has whispered into your ears, your strikes always heavy, deep and precise.

Speaking of the Princess, your gaze catches her in time to feast your eyes upon her magnificence. The vermin has swung his blade at your lady, but she has gracefully swept down, and before he can recover, her dagger has made his stomach its temporary case, a snug fit. You watch, morbidly fascinated, as blood spills forth the hole once she pulls out her weapon before bestowing another swift stab upon his neck.

Out of five lapdogs, two lie dead at the hands of your lady, and three at yours which leaves only the old hound who at present, is eyeing you with contempt. When he starts advancing however, instead of lunging at you, he opts for your Princess, but having predicted his dirty, old tricks, you easily intercept, swift and light on your feet as your blades clash. You dance around each other in an exchange of onslaughts until once again, you are forced to maintain a firm stance to keep his sword from bearing down on you.

The rain has thinned and through the clouds, the sun’s rays has spilled across Driftmark. In the corner of your eyes, you discern a glint. You notice it a second too late though because one moment, both of his hands are keeping a firm grip on the blade, and the next, one hand has disappeared into his cloak to retrieve a hidden dagger. Nevertheless, his strength barely wavers, and so engrossed in keeping the looming threat at bay you are that you have not been able to stop in time the dagger that stabs you.

Although its sharp tip has scarcely pierced your flesh before you lock your fingers around his wrist, the struggle that pursues leaves a crimson slash across the plane of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you swallow the pain in fear that it will upset your Princess who apparently has seized the opportunity to deliver cuts to the backs of his knees. Immediately, he falls to the ground with a grunt. Meanwhile, you waste no time in kicking the dagger away from his hand and throwing his blade across the square.

“Bagged yourself another degenerate like yourself, huh? Or did you whore yourself out?”

You are not as perturbed by him making a ridicule out of you as you are livid by his insults towards your lady, but when you have poised to throw a punch to his face, a gentle hand on your arm stops you.

Pulled free of the hood and kissed by sunshine, a waterfall of liquid starlight almost appears to be glowing.

“Lady wife of the Sea Snake.”

She remains silent at his observation, staring him down, but something about him not addressing your lady by her individual title rubs you the wrong way. Still, you will not interfere, for after all, you dance to your lady’s every desire.

Entwined hands resting just below her waist, your Princess has donned intimidation as though it is regalia, a goddess to be worshiped oozing effortless allure.

“I- I didn’t know. Have mercy.”

“I can be merciful if I so choose, but I can’t in good conscience have a vengeful man pouncing on my sworn shield at every chance he gets. And what’s more, you have thrown insults to my face. I could have your tongue for it.” She blinks, sly and languid, slow and deliberate, alongside a small tilt to her head. “So, what do you propose I do, hm?”

“My tongue. If- if it would appease you-”

The old hound in the face of the dragon is like a lamb to the slaughter, grovelling at the feet of the exalted creature who slowly approaches him.

“Insults are insignificant.” So, she drawls, and before he can register a word, a dagger has been plunged so deeply into his throat by way of his mouth that blood gurgles. “Keep your tongue.”

A squelch accompanies the recovery of the dagger. While she wipes it clean off blood on his cloth, you carry out your own retrieval of her other dagger buried in the back of another body. It, too, is wiped clean before being sheathed on her hip.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Your question is answered with a query. “Are you?”

Her gaze, beneath the dapple of daylight, holds the warmth of sunlit amber, flecked with whispers of forest green, and when it caresses your body from head to toe in silent observation, the wound hidden beneath your cloak throbs in harmony with the beat of your heart.

“I am.” You say, and your lopsided grin garners a small smile in return. “It’s high time we returned home then.”

It is only when you have escorted your lady into the safety of her castle that your false bravado comes to light. Your fingers touch your stomach and they come away wet, viscous, and overwhelmingly red. While you are lost in your head, the voice that caresses your ears comes in the form of your name, and you look up to find your lady standing in front of you.

Stickiness clings to your palm as you curl your digits into a fist, but your sorry excuse of an attempt is proven futile when lithe fingers lock around your wrist. A tug coupled with a look from her is all it takes for your fist to pour open. You can almost pinpoint the exact moment when realisation dawns on her, in the delicate lines on her face that have all but calcified into rocky plains.

“Uncloak.” Her tone harbours an icy ring to it by the time she speaks, releasing your hand at the same time, although when you stand unmoving, she demands instead. “Now.”

Pulling your dark cloak open reveals to your lady the cut across your stomach in all its scarlet, grisly glory. There is a twitch to her jaw as well as a tiny tilt to her head, and when she looks at you, a tempest brews in her eyes, but beneath the blaze of storm-tossed sea, dark and churning with a blazing anger, you find a shadow of concern.

“Pay a visit to the Maester, get it treated, and by nightfall, I want you in my chambers.”

And so, that is how you find yourself in your lady’s chambers after getting the crimson slash properly cleaned, stitched and wrapped in fresh linens at the masterful hands of House Valeryon’s Maester.

The door shuts with a soft click, and a greeting falls past your lips.

“Princess.”

You have crossed paths with her handmaiden in the corridors leading up to the chambers, and she must have helped your lady get ready for bed, you conclude, for the Princess is now comfortably clothed. Oddly enough however, her braids are not yet unwoven which is how you find her now, sitting in front of her vanity desk, a waterfall of white silk flowing down her back.

As if possessing a mind of their own, your legs carry you towards your lady before depositing you directly behind her back. Immediately, reverently, your fingers make a descent onto the intricate little bun perched atop her head, during which the Princess regards you silently through the mirror’s reflection. With much delicacy, you unbind the thick braid that is keeping the bun in place, and doing so spills another layer of those silken locks in an effortless cascade down her back.

“You would do well to remember-” It is amidst you undoing one of the smaller braids that her voice graces your ears for the first time since you have set foot in her chambers. Meanwhile, her gaze finds yours in the mirror. “-that your fealty to me is to no avail should you lie wounded and are unable to fulfill your duties.”

“But what good is a sworn shield who cannot…well…” With a sigh, you drop your gaze to your hands before seeking her eyes once more. “…shield?”

“And what good is a sworn shield who cannot stand?”

“I am perfectly capable of standing though.”

“Are you?”

And then, she is turning on her seat, a lock of her star-kissed hair slipping through your fingers like liquid silver, as she seizes you by your tunic. In the wink of an eye, dainty lips collide with your own, all but sucking your soul out of your body, and your witty remark, which you have been intending to let loose, dissolves on her tongue altogether.

Such marks the epilogue to your little repartee.

While one hand holds a fistful of fabric, another wanders, ghosting along your thigh to then settle on your stomach, fingertips dancing across the gauze before it grabs your waist. A wicked pad of a thumb presses onto your side, and the outcome is just shy of agony, a whimper being fed into your lady’s mouth as your knees very nearly fail you.

“Kneel.”

With a mere touch of her murmured breath branded so deliciously onto your lips that are presently bearing the fruit of her ardent assaults, you are instantly reduced to a puddle at her feet, eager to worship your goddess.

“Hmm, I thought as much.”

“Well,-” Your tone is tinged with a whine, whereas a smile blossoms on your face. “-that was unfair.”

“Are you questioning your Princess?”

You tuck your face into her stomach, dropping a little kiss onto the spot where you think her navel lies.

“I wouldn’t dare, Princess.”

In the meantime, fingers trace patterns on your cheek, caress the outline of your jaw, and closing your eyes, you revel in the luxurious sensation up until a palm that cradles your face coaxes you out of your sweet sanctuary.

“It would be cruel of me to have you remain kneeling.” As she speaks, her thumb maps each curve and contour of your lips, which, swollen by now, speaks of whispered words and the heady waltz of fervent kisses. “I believe improvisations are in order.”

“Strip.”

And strip, you do, for at present, you stand only in your loose trousers.

Gracefully, tentalisingly, your lady arises, and even though a few braids remain in place, her hair, now freed from its confine, flows freely past her hip, a cascade of luminous waves shimmering like moonlight upon a still lake. Her gaze, on the other hand, is fixed on the linen that is entirely wrapped around your waist. The seepage of blood from the wound paints the white fabric in a vague vermillion which offers a glimpse into the extent of the injury.

“It will heal in no time, my lady.” Your attempt at soothing your lady is received with a gentle threat. “I do not tolerate imprudence. Nor deceit. It would do you well to remember that.”

“I will, Princess. But it doesn’t mean I won’t do it all over again if it concerns your safety.”

“Stubborn as ever.”

“My Princess likes me stubborn though, doesn’t she?”

“With that bold tongue of yours, count yourself lucky that I do.” Although she has leveled you with a glare, the blaze of which can very well put the sun to shame, you smile a cheeky little grin, looking every bit the picture of a cat that has eaten the canary, or rather, a tigress who has eaten the dragon. “That I agree. My tongue is capable of doing unimaginable wonders after all.”

You feel her hands move, and fearing that her fingers are once again going to subject you to those ruthless torments, you quickly raise your hands in surrender. She proves you wrong however by snaking her fingers into the waistband of your trousers.

“These need to go too.”

Your Princess has said her command, and like the very devotee that you are, your hands make swift work of getting rid of the only piece of clothing that is covering your body. Meanwhile, what enters your line of sight is a heap of white fabric that pools at your lady’s feet.

A breath catches in your throat, your heart beating with an awe so profound that it borders on reverence. She is a nymph of old tales, a creature of myth sung by the bards, born of the elements and graced with the beauty of the divine. Her presence, lucid and otherworldly at the same time, seems to draw the very light towards her, bathed in a halo of celestial radiance.

Your lady’s bare frame, delicate and strong, speaks of both grace and power, a goddess in her own right. It is a sight that will never tire you, and despite having seen it before, you are awed anew by such glorious vision. Your gaze lingers, admiring the soft curves and the rise and fall of her chest, enthralled by the sheer wonder of her existence that stirs the deepest corner of your soul.

Fascinated, you go to take her hips in your hands, but a push from her, and pliantly, you let yourself fall onto the mattress, for after all, a dragon will always be a dragon no matter the circumstances. You have not so much as blinked when she climbs atop the bed to straddle your body, toned thighs, befitting a dragon-rider of her caliber, on either side of your ribcage.

Your lips collide.

Amidst the clash of tongues and teeth, your hands find home on her waist, flesh supple and soft beneath your fingertips, as you move to sit up, lifting your lady slightly to reposition her on your lap, a special throne fit for your Queen.

Wetness oozes, and as soon as you feel the heat of her core on your thigh, you moan, but given that you are locked in place by a hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and an arm around your neck, it tumbles directly into her mouth. There is a sway to her hips, her essence coating your flesh, and all too eagerly, you encourage the dragon-rider to ride your thigh to her heart’s content, hands sliding into the delicious little dip of her waist as you help her maintain the rhythm that she has set.

Her lips part from yours with a delectable little mewl. Those delicate buds, once dainty, now beautifully bears the bloom of passion’s visit. Each swell hints at the fervor of love’s embrace, leaving them a charming, rosy hue, a testament to moments of rapture. Coated in a layer of dew, they glisten softly in the warm glow, as if kissed by dawn itself, promising the sweet ache of desire.

Like a siren’s call, they lure you, and enchanted, you give in, raising a hand to gently trace the curve of her lips beneath your fingertips. A gasp escapes your lips once your wrist is caught in her hand. Another catches in your throat when two of your fingers are sucked into her mouth.

Every ridge and bone is visited by a velveteen tip of a tongue, licking, prodding, and by the time she guides your hand between her legs, your fingers are as equally soaked as her core. They slip inside smoothly to be enveloped in luxurious softness. Curling your fingers into a cruel, little curve seems to drown your lady in sweet suffering if the way her forehead falls atop your shoulder to muffle the sounds, that very nearly spill out of her, with a bite to your flesh is any indication.

Beneath the soft folds of her belly, you can see muscles straining, hidden little pearl, hard and sensitive, grinding against your palm to seek friction. Meanwhile, your love-struck gaze is busy admiring the lovely little freckles that are scattered across her chest, a spillage of stars, and upon chasing them with your lips, syrupy sweet kisses blossom in their wake.

The sight of her trembling frame as she rides your fingers is a scene worthy to be immortalised in art form, but at the same time, you frankly doubt that bards and painters all across Westeros can truly do your lady’s ethereal beauty justice. Swelling to near bursting with adoration, you hold her to your chest, fingers doing their job in the warm cavern of her core, and in doing so, you earn yourself a nibble to your neck, lips closing around your pulse point, sucking, kissing.

Hot air escapes your mouth as you bury your nose in the healthy mane of her hair.

“You seem awfully fond of my hair, tigress.” She pants, whereas you smile, nuzzling her silky strands that are not only smooth but also addictively fragrant. “Fond is an understatement, Princess.”

“What is it, then?”

“Love.”

“You love my hair?”

You abandon your happy, little haven in favour of taking her face in your hand. Tiny pearls of sweat blooms on her forehead while her lips are slightly parted. A knit occupies the space between her eyebrows while her eyes, usually an intense hazel brown, are now hazy with hunger.

“I love you,-” It is into the delicate lines forming at the corner of her mouth that you breathe your admission. “-and everything you have to offer.”

She says nothing, but you doubt even a thousand spoken words will be capable of touching you the way you feel deeply touched by being made aware of the effect it has on her in the fluttering of her folds as they clench your fingers. Your lady has died that sweet little death in your embrace, head collapsing onto your shoulder. It is only when her muscles have relaxed, and her core has released its grip on your fingers that they can finally slip out.

“And my dear tigress.” Fingers lazily toy with your hair. “Yes, Princess?”

“Don’t you dare hide your wounds from me ever again.” Your arms wrap around her body to hold her a little closer, a little tighter, into which she happily melts, rare moments where you can witness her softer, more affectionate side.

Nevertheless, you must have taken too long to her liking because the delicate flesh of your neck falls victim to her teeth.

“Do I make myself clear?”

Although she has left you throbbing in pain, the happiness that swells inside your chest easily prevails over anything and everything, burning so fiercely that you feel as if you can conquer the Seven Kingdoms to offer it to her on a diamond platter. Suppressing your silly little urge, you content yourself instead with a delicate press of a kiss to her bare shoulder.

“Delightfully so, Princess.”

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Heaven

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader summary: Gluttony, lust, sloth, envy, greed—the sins were placed on his head instead of a crown worth his status, a crown that would've, undoubtedly, made some meaning of his life. Without it, the matted, silver hair atop his head served more as a laughing matter. Even the father, taken with the idea of a male babe, has cast him aside. The apple of the rotten tree fell far from the branches, left to rot and decay in the shadows of his own undoing. warning: canon-typical violence, blood&cheese, hurt little comfort, loss of limbs, implied/referenced cheating, drinking, court, RELIGIOUS GUILT, sex lol word count: 8.2k

author's notes: hi lovely people! today, i present you my new creation - an Aegon fic! yay! PLEASE note that: a)YN has children in this imagine and they are important to the story. If you don't feel comfortable reading all that - do not engage with this fic. b) The Blood&Cheese does happen in this univese, so be mindful! If all is good, am I so excited to have you here - please don't shy away from sharing your opinion, either good or bad, in the comments. Love you!

He was not used to hearing no.

It is a simple truth: of all of the words in the world, one of the most common ones escaped his mind completely, going over his head and never leaving an impact strong enough to attach meaning to it. Since he was a babe in the golden cradle, lavishing in the rich purples of the crown, the Realm opened in front of him, smiling and cooing in his regal plump face. The best teachers, toys, and golden coins were thrown his way—the firstborn son, the long-awaited boy of House Targaryen. Soon, the endless teachers changed into endless rivers of the best wines, and wooden horses grew pairs of tits big enough to bury the temper he had grown to hold. Only gold in his pockets as he turned to yet another brothel door never changed its shape—money travelled from his hands into cups, dresses, and undergarments silently, the countless replicas of his father’s profile sparkling with the judgement of yet another of his poor choices.

Sometimes Aegon wondered what would be the breaking point for his righteous Lady Mother—when would her head finally turn to look him in the eye and mutter a swift ‘’no’’ instead of lowering her gaze and pursing her lips together at his new whim? He foolishly thought it would be the wine. Nevertheless, each time Alicent found him covered in his own dinner, dragged to the castle by some unfortunate knight, she raged and cried, but never forbade him from drinking again. Yet, the more he ate, the more he wanted.

He thought his heart a hole—the darkest, most blackest place of his soul, rotten from the day his violet eyes opened and took in the world around them. Like a tooth, white as snow upon its birth, growing spoiled from the sweet nectars the Realm had to offer. The small spot, not bigger than a needle's ear, appears first, going unnoticed. Then, it fattens and spreads its disease through the mouth until there are no teeth to chew with, leaving only a gaping void where once there was a smile. Gluttony, lust, sloth, envy, greed—the sins were placed on his head instead of a crown worth his status, a crown that would've, undoubtedly, made some meaning of his life. Without it, the matted, silver hair atop his head served more as a laughing matter. Even the father, taken with the idea of a male babe, has cast him aside. The apple of the rotten tree fell far from the branches, left to rot and decay in the shadows of his own undoing.

In the name of traditions he had no reason to engage in, the only place where he had hoped to be something or become something—his chambers—were occupied by the stark reminder of his worthlessness. Heleana, his sister, his wife—the almost always silent figure, a shadow of their childhood. It pained him to watch her close her eyes every time he entered the chambers to install the needed heir into his sister's womb. Aegon remembers her as a girl, often strange but never unkind—the image he forced himself to forget every time she undressed in front of him . The violet eyes they both shared, the silver braids covering her girlish figure—everything about House Targaryen made him ache with guilt and shame. He could not stand to look at the similar braids on his own shoulders, so he cut them off in a drunken rage, burning them in the flames of the fire. Oh, how he wished he could burn himself there instead.

None of his whores had any trace of Old Valyria. None of his whores had a trace of her, either. The one his famished, bloodied heart set the pinnacle of his desire. He could have any woman in the world, from the slaves to the highborn maidens, begging for him to spare one glance, one night, one favour from the night-made king. But it was her, the secret so shameful that even his spoiled mind could not admit it. Aegon studies the patterns in the ceiling, his body almost in pain from the aching feeling in his abdomen. The water around him moves, caressing his skin like a lover's touch. It's burning, he notes, despite being nearly wintry.

''Does your brother know you are here?''

He almost does not recognise his voice as he speaks, the words barely a whisper in the echoing chamber. It's low and darkened, leaving his mouth with a tingle of bitterness. The question comes out twisted, ridicule thrown into another naked body in his bath—it earns only a low chuckle from the woman in front of him.

''Yes, my king, I believe he does.'' Lady YN looked more entertained than embarrassed; all of the pleasantries the etiquette demanded they follow were out of the question anyway. The water hid most of her body, leaving only the head and neck for display. She was bare, the ends of her hair steaming down the ends of a bath as she lounged comfortably, completely at ease. ''The twins often share a piece of soul, my king. You must have known from your own children."

Aegon hms, his eyes leaving their place and setting on the woman instead. Coloured with wetness, her hair stuck to her forehead in the heat of the bath , starting small streams of water down her face. Striking, almost glistening eyes stared back at him. Something unreadable lay there, something not meant for him to see. Her body is one of the woman, not a girl; the marks of not one but two babes nurtured by her womb and breasts are simple in their beauty; this, Aegon thinks, ought to be the image of Mother on the walls of Sept. Lady YN, a widow to some highborn Lord he wished not to know the name of, and mother to his two children. Lady YN, a twin sister to Ser Leon Estermont. Lady YN, the mistress of the king.

''Are you just going to stare?'' The woman chuckled softly, bringing Aegon out of his reverie. "Or are you going to fuck me?''

Aegon barked a short laugh, adjusting himself to hold the weight of the woman climbing on top of him, his arms catching her hips with ease. ''Holy Seven! Where have you learned such profanities, woman? Not fuck,'' he playfully scolded, trapping her lips in a teasing kiss. ''making love, that is,'' he mumbled against her jaw.

Aegon moved slower than usual, taking his time to savour each moment. Something was enchanting in the way droplets of sparkling water clung to her skin, glistening like diamonds in the sunlight—it was as if the water itself had moulded her, leaving an indelible mark on her very being. Even now, with his headlight from wine and limbs burning for a rest, the hunger pools in his stomach, demanding more of her. YN's voice is sickening; it wraps around Aegon's dried throat and lands on his chest like a weighty stone. The hushed moans, mixed with whispers, send shivers down his spine as he rocks into her body, caught in the intoxicating web she weaves with her words. It almost pained him to pull away from her, knowing that he would never be able to resist her siren call for long.

''What are you doing?'' YN asks, her voice laced with a hint of amusement, as she places her hands on his chest, the pace of her hips never faltering.

Aegon struggles to find the words to respond, lost in the dizzying whirlwind of sensations she evokes within him. He can only manage a breathless, ''There is something I want to give you,'' before succumbing once again to her spellbinding presence. It's not an inquiry; the words leave Aegon's mouth without much thought behind them . His hand blindly travels to the small table somewhere behind his back, knocking down two goblets and a burned candle in his haste. ''Here,'' he says, pushing the cascade of hair aside to place a small golden pendant on her neck. "Oh, Gods,'' he murmurs, his eyes fixed on the pendant as it rests against her skin. "Had it made for you.''

He tried to focus on the pendant, but the sight of breasts moving before him was too much to bear. The pace she set, undeniably to torment him further, was excruciating. A few more moments, and he might finish right then and there. But he couldn't bring himself to stop her or put an end to this torturous game. Aegon closed his eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations that consumed him.

''Please, don't stop," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own racing heartbeat. Aegon wanted to cease existing, to turn around, and to never be seen here again. Instead, he just sat in the small bath, a little too small for two people, feeling redness creep up his neck onto his cheeks. To his surprise, the heat pooling inside of him only grew as his courage slipped away with each moment. A completely pleasurable sensation took over him, spreading heat between his legs and causing his breath to quicken. Aegon's hips instinctively arched forward, craving more of her touch. The waves around him mixed with the ones of pleasure as he came, the hands roaming his body, leaving him feeling more alive than ever before.

Numb, he watched the water swirl around the YN's breasts and knees as she reached her high a few moments later, a smile playing on her lips as she looked down at him. She rinsed her body, washing away the sweat and salt, before stepping out of the water with a satisfied sigh. Aegon followed her body with hungry eyes as she stepped out of the bath and reached out for the cloth to dry herself. First, her hair, then her neck and arms; she meticulously dried every inch of her body before slipping into a blue gown, one of her hands catching and bringing to light his gift. A sun-shaped gold pendant dangled from her fingers, glinting in the fire. She traced the intricate design with her thumb, a fond smile on her face as she remembered the moment he had given it to her.

Aegon's eyes softened as he watched her. ''I intend to have you join me for the early meal on the morrow. ''

''I would be pleased to, my king.'' She pauses, a sly smile playing on her lips. ''May the night be kind to you.''

He chuckled, his own smile mirroring hers. ''And may your dreams be filled with nothing but joy.''

With a gentle nod, she excused herself from his presence, the gold pendant still clasped in her hand. Aegon sighed, not bothering to sit straight, leaning on the bath walls instead. He prayed to Seven for even a chance to close his lids this sombre night; his usual sleep was turned into a nightmare and a fever dream at once—the one that left him covered in sweat and desperate for sweet oblivion. No matter how much he pleaded, the laughing eyes of Lady YN wouldn't leave her alone. He would lay in bed until sunrise, staring into the faintly pink sky, until dawn came and the cycle of never-ending torment began again.

There were a lot of sinners in all the corners of the world; they kept on with their small affairs, akin to flies, wasting each of their numbered days on the things that carried no meaning in the great map of history. Slaves of foreign lands, smallfolk of fields and seas, servants scurrying in the shadows of their masters or draped with precious cloth figures of noblemen—life and later death—showed no interest in their whereabouts. Their existence was fleeting; their legacy was forgotten with the passing of the seasons.

YN grew tired of never-changing identities quickly; the same faces of mediocrity surrounded her, stealing the much-needed fresh air with the talk of trivial matters. Noon and night mixed in one globe in her throat, tasting of nothing but bitterness—the same flute, feast, and court affairs sun after sun. The small girl near her screeches and laughs, her little hands occupied with the dolls, as she attempts to flee from the grasp of her older brother. They seemed to be in their own world, running down one of the stone halls of the Red Keep with a speed the best stallions of the kingdoms could only dream of.

''You are cheating! I saw it; you did!''

Peter was her firstborn, a boy who is now nearing the age of a man—two and ten summers have passed since she first heard his cry echo in the cold halls of the family castle. Slender, even sickly skinny—as her late lord husband declared upon his birth, he fell sick often—she has spent countless nights near his cradle, wishing to see the day he becomes a healthy, strong young lad. To the delight of everybody, and YN as well , her prayers did not go unanswered. Peter was now skilled with a blade, his fragile figure resulting in swifter, much softer moves that left his teacher's prowess a remarkable honour of knighthood.

''I am not! I'm just faster than you!''

A smile spreads across YN's face as she looks at the little girl in her yellow dress, who now hides behind a collum. Meg was a keen, healthy babe of four summers, with a mischievous glint in her eyes that mirrored YN's own. Other than that, she looked nothing like her—all her father, the Lord husband, lost to illness. What a blessing it was to look at her daughter's face and see him. What a curse.

''Please, be civil. Remember, no hitting, no biting, and absolutely no spitting are worthy of a knight or a lady."

No talking, either, if she could convince them to listen for longer than two minutes. Having her children play with the royal heirs was Aegon’s idea; like that, she had more time on her hands, and twins could enjoy the company of someone closer to ''normal'' folk, as he had worded it. It was not something she could refuse, although she wished nothing more than to do so. The royals were a serious matter; one wrong word and your head ornates the castle walls instead of the golden banners. She did not doubt her children; they were kind-hearted, lovely people, but the notable ‘incidents’ of house Targaryen kept her awake at night, wishing her children would be brought to her with all their eyes and limbs. Leon, her brother, assured her nothing would happen— it was he who took her children to and from the Queen's chambers. He told her of great opportunities for his niece and nephew that came with being closer to the court, but it did not ease YN’s mind fully. All of her family, in one way or another, entertained the royal and noble house of the dragons—the fate most minor houses considered a blessing. Most, but not all.

Before the death of her husband and long before either of her children came into this globe, it was just two of them in their small little world—the twins of House Estermont, the heirs to the misfortunes of the Greenstone's lush greenery and endless tides of sea. She would've stayed there, on a small island enveloped by mountains and castle walls. It was Leon who wanted to make something of himself, with dreams as high as the seagulls up in the sapphire sky above their childhood bedchambers. There was not thought more ridiculous than her dear brother in the walls of the capital , and yet he left the Estermont as soon as the banners were called for young swords in the court of then-prince Aegon. Then she married, and the rest was drowned in the endless nights of tears. Sometimes, only when no one was around, YN wondered if she could've stayed forever there, in her home, without having to see the world that was often so cruel—had her brother not left her so early; had he been the lord instead of their father when she came of age?

''Mother, are you going?''

The loud voice has startled YN out of her thoughts. She smiled at her son, adjusting the skirts of her gown before nodding. ''Yes, my sweet. Let us come in; we do not want to keep the Queen waiting, do we now?''

The Queen. YN has heard many rumours in court concerning the sanity of young Queen Helaena, her preference for silence, and modest foods, but she has never seen her closer than a few yards. Standing before the large wooden door to her chambers seemed foolish—had she been any other woman, perhaps she had nothing to fear—to present her children to the royal maids and escape to the comfort of the halls once more. But she was no ordinary woman—she was a mistress to the King the Queen called brother, the one whose bed he warmed instead of hers. YN cursed her brother in her head for having ''a business'' to attend to today, of all days; even though he assured her of Queen's kind heart, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease as she pushed the door.

The chambers were quiet, with only the slow crackling of wood in the chimney disturbing the peace. ''My Queen, I have brought the children as you requested,'' YN announced, her voice echoing in the vast rooms. She waited for a response, but none came—only the flickering shadows dancing on the walls.

On the small cushion before the fireplace, a figure dressed in regal robes sat with her eyes on the embroidery hoop in her hands. YN takes her time studying the woman as her own children join the pair of royal heirs on the woven carpet. She sits straight, her face somewhere else. The queen has beautiful hair, YN notes to herself ; her silver locks escaped the carefully laid braids, landing right onto her cool, fair face. The woman is younger than her, perhaps by a few summers. The maids around her worked almost in silence—only sometimes it dared to be broken with a small polite exchange concerning the seams or the ornaments on their wooden hoops. There was a distance between her and them—a distance that YN could sense even from where she stood. Despite the quiet camaraderie of the ladies, the queen remained in her own world, a world that YN couldn't quite grasp.

''Lady YN,'' the Queen finally said, never moving her eyes from the dark fabric. ''Would you like to see what I have done so far?''

Something familiar sparkled inside YN's mind like an old tune long forgotten. There was a certain childish quality to her words, reminding her of the way her daughter spoke—something about the innocence and vulnerability that still lingered beneath the regal facade. The Queen spoke to her like they had been great friends like she had seen her before—perhaps in a dream or in another lifetime.

''Of course, Your Majesty.''

She moved closer, careful not to step on the countless toys and pillows scattered around on the floor. Someone, Jaehaerys or Jaehaera, whom she could not tell, squeaked and ran past her, chased by her own daughter, almost knocking YN over in their game. The Queen smiled warmly at the chaos, her eyes sparkling with amusement at them as YN sat before her on the padded chair, intended for legs. She turned the hoop of her embroidery , her delicate fingers working quickly and skillfully.

''I did it for him. A golden dragon, you see? I do not like green; it does not suit him,'' she half-whispered, her almost translucent violet eyes studying each expression on YN's face but never lingering too long.

Him. YN nods, her heart aching with understanding. She knows. Suddenly, the world feels like it is burning—or, perhaps, it is just the growing fire—and an acquainted feeling of guilt and shame travels to her throat. She swallows hard, trying to drown the discomfort in her saliva—a whore, a liar, a thief. Here, in the presence of something so fleeting, so beautiful, and so delicate, she feels the weight of her sins pressing down on her chest, threatening to consume her whole.

The colourful eyes of the Queen seemed to understand her thoughts; she smiled. ''You have a beautiful necklace.''

YN's involuntary hand reaches for the necklace hanging around her neck, feeling the weight of it in her palm. The gold sun sits there proudly, having escaped the comfort of her dress in a moment she has missed. It feels like a cruel joke and, if she will, a reminder of the audacity she possessed to steal from a queen. She felt bare for the first time in years, like a child caught by his mother in some small affair. ''Thank you, your Grace," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames.

''He likes you, my brother. He has a very strange way of showing it; you are the first person he's allowed to get this close to. The first to keep for so long, too.'' Queen Helaena pauses, her eyes softening slightly as she looks at the children before her. "They love having someone to play, you know? Always waiting for a new friend to join them in their games.'' As the firelight dances across her face, Queen Helaena's smile is bittersweet. "I am afraid I do not know what to do with them. ''

YN nods in understanding, her head turning to watch the flock of laughing children too. ''I was thirteen when I had my first. From the moment he left my womb, he screamed and cried, never finding solace in my arms. I was his mother, the person who was supposed to provide comfort, yet I could just cry with him. I did not feel the mystical tenderness the ladies told me about—I felt lost. Hollow. I thought I was missing some piece of myself that would make me love him the way I was supposed to. But he grew, and I did with him—then I realised that I had a lot of people to care for me, but he only had me. There is no ''right'' love—only the love we are capable of giving , and that was enough for him.''

The woman kept quiet, her eyes moving on the stone floor. YN wondered if her silence was a hint of disapproval or if she was simply lost in her thoughts once again. After a moment, Queen Heleana finally spoke, her voice lingering through the chambers. "Would you like to join us in the garden on the morrow? It would be a great change of scenery."

YN smiled. The relief washed over her—it didn't feel real. The same eyes, hair, and face she saw hundreds of times are once again in front of her, only changing slightly to more feminine features. The Queen does look like her brother-husband, and now YN can't help but feel a sense of comfort in her appearance. ''I would be honoured to, Your Majesty."

The days changed each other quickly; her children grew, and the court lived, growing and changing before her eyes. There was something in the air; she could feel it—an alter after Prince Aemond brought news of the passing of a Valaryon bastard. YN remembers the night—the king has drunk himself half-dead, pacing and muttering about war—the weight of the crown seemed heavier on his head that night. She knows he wishes she did not hear it, laughing at all of her worried questions on the next eve. Still, the war worried her; it brought the worst upon its coming—famine, illness, and terror. She did not fear death—the Stranger was a familiar presence in her life—but the thought of her children suffering haunted her dreams.

YN looks at the girl in her wooden bed, sleeping as peacefully as a child should. Peter sits near, on the stool beside her, his eyes shining with excitement more than fear as he listens to the reading—no matter how smart her son is, he is still too young to fully grasp the doom that warfare will bring to their doorstep; for him, the tales of glorious battles are still alive and true. As YN finishes yet another story about the conquest of three dragon warriors, the comforting silence settles in their bedchamber. Soon, the sun will fully hide behind the darkened clouds of the horizon, and the night will cast its shadows over the land.

''Are you the king's mistress?'' Peter asks, his voice barely above a whisper. The words that leave his lips are not his own. YN's heart shrinks at the sound of them—the whispering faces of the court's gossip swirling in her mind.

There it was—the question she hoped would resolve itself on its own but knew would come anyhow. It's hard, YN realises, to admit such a simple truth to the pair of wide-open eyes looking up at her as she closes the book. Did she not tell it herself after each time she spent the night in the king's chambers? '' I and King Aegon are,'' she takes a breath in. What were they? Lovers? Such a foolish, shameful thought. ''dear friends. We converse and dine together, and he takes great pleasure in hearing me play.''

She does not want to lie to her sweet boy; she knows he is perceptive and will see through any falsehood. But the weight is heavy; she will not let it crush his still boyish shoulders. Deep down, YN fears the day her son will realise the truth. Will he still wish to know her name then? He looks like a small sparrow bird, YN thinks to herself, in his brown vest and ruffled collar of the shirt —so small yet so curious. He tilts his head just like the finch would as if trying to grasp her words and find something between them. ''Do you love him?''

A sigh escapes her lips before she can think of a better answer. ''Well, let's see,'' she pauses. ''I love you, and I love little Meg, and I love your uncle Leon. I also love our beautiful rooms, my dresses, and the nice pies we get to have for supper. And all of that we have because King Aegon is good and just and values our house as one of his loyal subjects. So, in a way, yes, I do love him for that.''

Lies. Disgraceful, unworthy of a lady, a mother she is. Does she truly feel nothing when his lips caress every inch of her very being, his hands touching her soul akin to a ghost? Does she not wish the warmth of his body never had to part from her heart, staying on her neck instead, trapped in the warm, gold sun on her skin? Did she not offer him what was left of her time and time again ? Did she not think of him all the time? Was she not terrified of loving him, and did she not love him?

''I do not want you to marry him.'' Peter is determined. His hands grow fists, the slight childish jealousy painting his face. He could not know, and yet he felt it; he was her son, her blood, after all.

''Then I shall not. I will be here, helping you as you grow into a strong, handsome Lord, and then I will eat only cake and wear pretty dresses for the rest of my days. You will protect me and your sister, just like your father did before he passed, and I will be your scorny lady-mother for the time being . ''

She would. YN wished he would see it, but he was still too young, too naive, to understand the sacrifices she dedicates for him and his sister only, the chains she traps in her heart every day just for them to have a happier life. The sacrifices he did not ask for, YN reminds herself . Sacrifices she chose willingly.

Peter nods, his eyes changing back into childish, sparkling innocence, leaving the stone-cold stare and anger hanging only in his mother's memory. "That sounds perfect, my lady-mother," he says with a grin. "I will protect you and my sister with all my might, just like my father did."

''Good,'' YN smiles, planting a kiss on her son's forehead. "Your father would be proud of the man you are becoming.''

He would not, but Peter does not need to know it. Maybe he will grow up to be nothing like him, and maybe the gods will be kind enough to let her see it.

The Queen's chambers are loud as the night approaches; children, royal or not, never seemed to tyre and instead wished to play all into the night. Even the tireless maid, exhausted of their incessant energy, now quietly sat in the corner, undoubtedly anxious not to be discovered for at least a handful of moments. Tragically for her, YN did not possess this kind of power; her head seemed to soon crack into a few pieces from the noise and shuffles, her limbs burning for rest and quiet. She was tired of reading; the book, long forgotten, was shyly lying at the edge of the wooden table, covered in rich gold ornaments.

''Do you feel unwell?'' The soft voice of Queen Helaena is heard nearby. The fair face turns into a concerned expression—the Targaryen queen had always been perceptive .

YN shakes her head in a weak attempt to wave any worries away. ''Just a little tired from the long day,'' she murmurs, forcing a small smile.

''Perhaps you should rest. I will send a maid to draw you a bath and prepare your chambers for the night.'' The woman's graceful hand reaches out to gently touch YN's shoulder. ''The children can stay; they will be in good hands with the nursemaid, and then they shall return to your chambers in the morning.''

YN feels something creep in her stomach but shakes it off. Perhaps she should not have eaten that pie after all. ''Thank you, your grace,'' she says, mustering a grateful smile. She stands up to leave, feeling the weight of the day's events finally catch up to her before the Queen's voice is heard again.

''The cooter, a mother to three kings,'' she mumbles, her words causing YN to pause and turn back.

''Your grace?" It was not the first time The Queen lost herself in her thoughts; sometimes, she would whisper nonsense as they conversed—it was worrying, sure, but YN had learned to ignore it. Queen Helaena was a sweet, kind woman, but her mind was often clouded by the burdens of her crown. YN wished that one day the Queen would find peace and clarity in her own thoughts; she prayed for it, too.

''The cooter,'' the Queen gazed in her direction, directing attention to the embroidery on YN's dress.

''Yes, it is a cooter; it is a sigil of my house, your Grace, house Estermont.'' YN smiled gently, hoping to distract the Queen from her confusion. The woman's eyes lit up with recognition as she nodded in understanding, and YN breathed a sigh of relief. She can now rest.

It was not long before the screams in her dreams startled her awake—the dark, obsidian night in the window chilling her feet as she quickly sat up, her heart pounding in her chest. Although the screams never seethed; they became louder, more concerned voices of people in the halls outside her room, calling out curses and cries. YN quickly climbed out of the warm bed and rushed to the door, the cobble floors cooling beneath her bare feet as she opened it to see what was happening.

People running in and out of the long halls—maids and knights, even some noblemen in their sleepwear—seemed not to notice the strange figure of a woman in her nightgown standing in the doorway. ''What has happened?'' she asked the maid nearby before recoiling - the dirty sheets in her hands were coloured crimson.

The boy is dead, a voice told her . The boy in the royal chambers.

''Let me through,'' she demanded, pushing past the maid and rushing towards the rooms of Queen Helaena. The rooms she left her children in. She did not care; if the murderer was still in those walls, she would strangle him herself; her children, young, innocent children she left in the care of their nurse, were still there. Were still alive in her head.

The walk from her chambers to the royal ones wasn't too long; she would've walked a thousand more stairs if it was needed. The door to the chambers is wide open; splashes of blood lead inside, pooling before the opening, resembling a twisted, sick lake of horror. ''Meg? Peter?'' No response came, only eerie silence. Panic began to rise in her chest as she stepped over the threshold, her heart pounding in her ears. The screaming rings in her ears suddenly; she does not recognise her own voice as it echoes off the stone walls.

Small, lifeless limbs stare at her almost in accusation, the redness of his open neck wound stark against the pale skin —the body of young Prince Jaehaerys lays in his cradle like it often would, lacking only the silver crown of his head. The room was a scene of unfathomable horror, with blood splattered across the walls and the once innocent nursery now a monstrous sight. The scent of death surrounded her like a bloodied blanket, choking the breath in her throat and sending her head spinning.

She did not feel the male hands clutching her shoulders, pulling her away. The blue and green cloth under her feet quickly moved, the voice of her brother whispering something in her deaf shocked ears.

''Leon, children, my children,'' she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as tears streamed down her face. The realisation of what had happened in that room hit her right in the stomach, leaving a wretched kno of guts and despair. She tries to fight back, to shout over the chaos, or to push him away; she always does. It makes him just angrier, and harsher, and he tightens the grip, pushing her right into the open door of what appears to be his chambers.

''Everyone stays in their rooms until stated otherwise by the king's orders,'' he hisses, finally letting go of her.

The action is so sudden that she falls forward, hitting her nose as she slides down the stone wall. There's blood everywhere; it's mixed with tears, soaking into her hair and dripping down from her dress. Her brothers's plan worked; YN had no energy to shout anymore. Her anger is now swallowing down her dried throat. She opens and closes it like a fish out of the sea, trying to get air into her lungs—all that is left for her to watch as the wooden door snaps against its frame and the lock clicks, chaining her to the cold, dark room.

YN does not know how much time has passed or if it has passed at all ; the dark, obsidian night sky is now coloured in pinks, oranges, and purples, resembling her usual gowns more than the bright blue of the day. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze; she does not care for it. The only sound in her mind is a constant prayer, although, in her previous life, not many could accuse her of being devout. Now, YN finds herself clinging to any semblance of hope, no matter how faint, no matter where it comes from.

It's all her fault, she thinks. It is as clear as a day—the sins on her shoulders were so heavy that even Gods could not bear them anymore. She should've stayed there, in the northern castle of her lord husband, weeping over his grave like any proper widow would. Instead, she has indulged in a life of sin with violet eyes and silver locks, finding solace in the arms of another man. She let her body decide, choosing a life of bodily pleasure over honour and duty. The husband, no matter how hard it was for her to love him, was the only man who had a right to touch her soul. Touch her at all.

The door opened with a loud bang, revealing her lord husband in all his might. He was wearing those weird clothes again—something torn and dirty. It looked like he robbed some beggars near the castle before coming in, and he smelled the same.

''Come on!'' he exclaims, opening his arms as if for a hug. ''Don't be shy; we are married, remember?''

There is not much she can say; the easiest way out is to let him do what he wants. So, YN bites her cheek when his sloppy kisses travel down her neck and keeps her mouth shut when he takes off her nightgown. It's awful, almost humiliating, to hear his breath quicken. To feel him inside. She smiles when it's finally over, and he plants the last, tired kiss on her head before getting under the covers. She knows better than to disturb her husband's sleep; instead, she cries silently, mindful of staining his pillow with tears.

YN's knees are aching even through the fabric of her gown, but it does not matter. Through pain, she could feel her remorse. Feel like she was being punished for her own desires. Feel like she was clean again.

A soft knocking is heard, and YN has to snap out of her trance, gathering the tears building in her eyes with a cloth. It's a servant, one of the many she sees running down the halls this morning. ''You are awaited before the Council, milady.''

''Thank you,'' YN replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She will see to the punishment the gods have chosen for her, no matter how harsh it is. Her only wish is for her children, who are innocent in all of this, to be spared from any consequences of her actions. She straightens her posture and nods. ''Let us go then.''

The loud arguing in the rooms of Small Council seemed to fade as she appeared in the doorway, all eyes turning to her as she entered. The sun was already up, she noticed, as the soft streaks of warmth hit the room through the open windows, casting a golden hue over the polished table where the council members sat. She caught strange looks from a few, and frankly, she thought they were right. YN looked like a mad woman, her hair quickly plated and her dress hurriedly laced, rushing around a castle that seemed to freeze at the news of a child's passing.

''Mother,'' the loud cry of her son's voice echoed, snapping YN back to reality. He came running to her, his face streaked with tears and his eyes red from crying, his hands clutching her waist as he buried his face in her stomach. YN stood there, wrapping her arms around him tightly, feeling the empty space where his right hand should have been. ''I am so sorry; I tried to save him, but the knife, they did; they cut it off, Mother, '' he sobbed.

YN's heart shattered into a million pieces as she held her son close. Her darling, brave boy lost a part of himself, but he was alive. Better a sparrow, living or dead, than no birdsong at all. Here, in her arms. ''It is okay; all is well; you did so well. Where is your sister?''

''She is safe; I hid her in the closet. She was so scared,'' he whispered, his voice trembling.

''Your daughter is with maids now, Lady YN.'' The voice of Sir Criston Cole echoed through the room.

YN's eyes quickly found the green dress she put on her daughter herself; she sat on the hip of some scared maid, silent. She thanked the gods; she thanked anyone and everyone, in the sky or beneath the ground, who had decided to let her children live. Occupied with her thoughts, YN does not hear the questions flying at her right away; yet, the male voice of the swordsman still cuts through the cloudiness of her mind, reaching her ears.

''We would like to ask you a few questions about what happened that night. Can you tell us why you were not in the Queen's chambers with your children?''

There is something seething inside her as her son wails and clutches her waist with his now one hand and her daughter's frozen eyes as she stares through her mother. YN stood there, before the able knights of the castle, in nothing but her nightgown, covered in her son's blood and her own tears, feeling the weight of their accusatory gazes upon her. The gods forgave her and proved her innocent, but the whispers of suspicion still lingered in the air, staining her with their accusations. Anger—that was what boiled inside her—a fiery rage that threatened to consume her from within. ''What are you implying?''

''It is suspicious, don't you think, Lady YN, for you to be the only one absent when the tragedy occurred?''

YN laughed. It did not sound like a laugh of joy but rather a bitter, cynical sound that echoed through the great hall. Perhaps that was the mark of nerves she has wasted today, perhaps the showing of her despair—the maddening, heavy feeling of despair clawing at her insides. The child was dead; others were harmed—the cold, the almost translucent figure of the young prince covered in unfathomable amounts of his own blood lingered in her mind. "How dare you, the Head of the King's Guard, be the one telling me of doubts when it was my son, my blood, that protected Prince Jaehaerys? Tell me, Ser Criston, where were you when my boy lost his hand defending the royal family?''

Ser Criston's expression darkened at the accusation; his jaw clenched tightly. "I was carrying out my duty elsewhere, as I always have," he replied evenly, his gaze wavering in the face of her anger. ''And for those who question my loyalty, there is a place in the dungeons reserved for traitors and cowards. Guards, seize Lady YN and bring her to the cells for questioning immediately."

As his words echoed through the hall, the even louder cries of her son were drowned out by the commotion as the guards moved to apprehend her. Although she feels nothing now, the contrast of cold poisoning her body where the boiling anger was just a moment before terrifying and overwhelming. YN felt numb and drained of any emotion as her son hugged her closer, despite the best efforts of the man around them. There will be bruises, she thought in a haze. When did he get so strong?

''Leave her be.'' A voice boomed from the back of the room.

King Aegon sat there on the designated stool, adorned with heads of dragons. Now, he did not look regal; he seemed sick, his violet eyes bloodshot and silver locks hanging limply around his face. The sea-sick green coloured his face as he struggled to maintain his composure. Just for a second, their eyes met, a silent understanding slipping between them. There was something wrong with him. There was something wrong with him that was also wrong with her.

''Thank you, my king,'' she whispered, her voice barely audible. The man's expression softened slightly, with a flicker of recognition in his eyes, before he turned away, dismissing the guards. They were free to go; she was free to go, with her alive and well children, who still could scream and cry. He will stay; he had to stay with his now-forever boy.

The water hit the pier with gentle splashes, and the droplets of salt jumped on the stone legs of the dock before rejoining the vast sea. The warm shadows of the setting sun coloured the liquids in pricey gemstones: sapphire and rubies, quarts, and turquoise glistened before her eyes. There was something magical in the way the light danced, ethereal and airy, as it circled the pier—no one disturbed the peace of the tranquil sea; nobody knew the secrets it had stored since its birth.

The water was warm enough—just a little more, and the beach would embrace many swimmers in its warm hug. But, for now, she only watched as the waves gently lapped against her feet, the soothing rhythm of the sea reminding her she was still here, in her body. YN closes her eyes. It would be an easy fix— to just jump , to let the water envelop her completely, to become one with the sea. No one would know how she went, not until the same waves returned her body to the shore somewhere far from this castle. Or would the water leave her for itself, storing the secrets of her death deep beneath the sand as her soul left this world behind? YN had no chance of knowing, but the thought of disappearing into the ocean's embrace was strangely comforting. Just her and the place she called home.

The sound of crashing waves enveloped her head; the wind was getting stronger, ruffling the hem of her ivory gown as she sat at the edge of the cliff, the last rays of sun hitting her face like a gentle caress. The salty air inside her lungs reminded her of Estermont . The small island, isolated and insignificant on the grand map. Perhaps, if she were lucky, her remains would be buried there, under some nameless mountain range, with only a small stone marker to indicate her existence.

There are slow, almost silent steps approaching her from behind; she does not turn around. If it was death, whoever the Stranger took the form of, it was welcome here. With her children asleep in her brother's chambers, a dozen guards watching over them, she was at peace. The gush of wind through her hair felt like a final embrace, reeking of salt and blood. What an unusual scent—almost like the sea at low tide mixed with the metallic tang of iron. Almost too real to be just in her head.

''I killed him,'' the hoarse voice announced behind her, the black cloak brushing against her arm. The cloak she knew belonged elsewhere. She turned slowly, her hand plating itself on the warm deck, feeling the small stones beneath her fingers.

The light illuminated his face; the usually calm violet eyes now clouded with a darkness she had never seen before. The golden dragon head sitting at his chest glinted beneath the rays just as the waves did a moment before, the still-hot blood dripping from his hands onto the wooden planks. Strangely, the black fabric now was almost green from the crimson stains—Helaena was right. It did not suit him.

''I smashed his skull open with a single blow,'' he said, his voice chillingly calm. ''I felt nothing as he lay there, dying at my feet. I thought it would feel good to finally have revenge . It didn't.''

The sunset painted over the walls of Red Keep, the oranges and reds of dying stars reflecting in the short hair of the man in front of her. He looked like he was burning, set on fire right where the crown should have been, burning down his neck and slumping shoulders. His castle, his kingdom, was all slowly on fire, despite the cool evening breeze that swept from the sea behind her. She can't get him to leave, she realises. The flames fluttered around him, everywhere except his eyes—it was his home, and it combusted. YN still had time to jump into the safety of the water, drown her sorrows, and escape the unavoidable ruin that awaited them both. The saltiness from the waves travelled onto her cheeks, the shallow streams hitting her lips. She can't leave without him.

''Sit with me,'' she muttered, reaching out her hand towards him. It was empty of any rings or jewellery; it was bare, like a virgin sheet on a freshly made bed. She was free—free from the weight of ties and obligations that had bound her for so long. Just her, without anything that would remind her of the past.

''I will stain your hand with blood,'' Aegon mused, his eyes dark with the weight of his own burdens. I will stain you with my sins, he wanted to say, but the words caught in his throat.

''Stain them. I do not care.''

So the veined hand reached out, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine. She did not realise how cold she was until he enveloped her in his embrace, his warmth seeping into her bones. She felt clean for the first time in years, despite the stains on her dress, as the man collapsed in her embrace, his tears mixing with her own. ''Do you think we can ever truly be free from our sins?'' she whispered, feeling a sense of peace wash over her.

The man's embrace tightened, his voice steady despite the tremble in his breath as he replied. ''This love was never a sin; it could not be. Not when I love you with all that I am."

Aegon looks back at her, and it is not a tragedy.

This is the closest to heaven they will ever be.

The Dragon and Raven Masterlist

Note: Hello, wonderful people. I created a master list of my series, The Dragon and Raven. Linking the ongoing chapters will make it much easier for you all to follow and keep track of the story. I hope you enjoy it! Story Summary: After the Battle of BurningMill, Samwell and Davos Blackwood are gone, leaving Davos' twin Benjicot, the new lord of House Blackwood. Queen Rhaenyra and her council decided to show sympathy and gratitude to House Blackwood for their stance on the Black Faction of the War. Crown Princess Aemma, Rhaenyra's oldest daughter and supposedly Ser Leanor's only child, volunteers to fly to Raventree Hall to show the Crown's Respect and Support to House Blackwood and their newly appointed Lord. Tags: Fluff, Smut, and angst.

Chapter One: Aemma Velayron

Chapter Two: Benjicot Blackwood

Chapter 3: Raventree Hall to Harenhall

Chapter 4: The Duel

Chapter 5: The Dragon Princess and her Raven Lord

Chapter 6: The Wedding (Newest Chapter)

The Dragon and The Raven

Chapter 5: The Dragon Princess and Her Raven Lord.

Chapter Summary: Jacaerys did not believe that the Lord of House Blackwood was the best for his beloved sister. It is too bad that Aemma has fallen deeply for the Lord of Raventree Hall, and nothing will stop her from getting her way.

Please let me know your thoughts :) Keep track of the story: Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4

Word count: 3215

Jacaerys looked at the lord, to whom his sister insisted on being betrothed. Lord Blackwood looked like he had just come out of a duel. Sweat dripped down his face, his hair was messy, and his clothes were wrinkled and muddy. Benjicot knew that even though he had Prince Daemon’s blessing, getting Prince Jacaerys' approval was just as important. 

Benjicot bowed and addressed the prince, “Prince Jacaerys, let me be the one to welcome you to the Riverlands and Harrenhall.” 

As Lord Blackwood made his statement, all the men from House Blackwood followed their lord in bowing, leading the North and the Vale men to bow as well. Grinding his teeth, Jace couldn’t help but admit that the lord was respectful and was a natural leader. Not wanting to seem rude but also not wanting to give the impression of approval, Jace merely nodded his head. When this happened, Princess Aemma was frowning; she did not need a Daemon 2.0 to try to intimate her betrothed. Aemma turned to Baela, who winked while shaking her head. Ugh, Men, they both thought.  Thankfully, before another awkward moment passed, Daemon cleared his throat. 

“Jace, Baela, come, first unpack your things at the tents before we start making any…foolish decisions.” Commanded Daemon as Jace frowned at his stepfather, but he knew better than to argue with the Rouge Prince and followed him to the tents where they would be staying. 

As people began to leave, Aemma walked to Benji, smiling at him. She took his arm and kissed his cheek. Benji returned the smile as he led them towards his tent. 

“Your brother doesn’t seem to like me…” stated Benji, as they entered his tent, leading the princess towards the bed. 

“Jacaerys is a dragon, and dragons are very overprotective with what they love, but he will come around, I'm sure of it,” stated Aemma as she unraveled her braids. 

Benji hummed as he decided to sit next to her and help the princess undo her braids. Aemma couldn't help but close her eyes. His fingers were like magic, easing the tension she had. Before she could stop herself, a slight moan slipped from her lips as she whispered.

“ You truly have a talent with your fingers…” Aemma stiffened, as did Benji once those words were spoken. The phrases had two meanings, and Aemma didn’t want him or anybody who might have heard them to misinterpret them. 

Benji huffed with laughter as he finished undoing her braids and kissing the top of her head. Which in turn made Aemma huff and turned to glare at him. 

“It is not funny, Ben!” she exclaimed as she lightly slapped his chest. 

Benji laughed even louder as he pulled the princess to his chest and brought them down on his bed. 

“Oh, I thought it was hilarious, my dear Aemma.” 

Aemma leaned on his chest, staring at his eyes as she playfully glared at him. Benji looked down and could not help but feel warm inside. He never thought his life would be played out like this, being betrothed and falling desperately fast in love with a dragonriding princess. Aemma sighed and placed her head on his chest, drawing small circles on his chest, the two peacefully enjoying their silent company. Soon, all the events that had happened the last few days finally caught up with them as they lulled themselves to sleep with the sound of breathing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once Jace set himself up with his tent, he quickly checked on Baela, who told him she wanted to take a quick bath because she reeked of a dragon. Then he went to his sister’s tent only to find it empty. Before he continued his way to look for her, he was summoned by Daemon. Walking into the tent, Jace saw his stepfather sitting behind a desk, reading some letters with a cup of wine. Daemon looked at the restless boy, giving him an unimpressed brow as he waited for Jace to sit. Once Jacaerys noted that his father would not speak until he took a seat before him, he sighed, sat on the chair, and tried to raise a brow back. 

Daemon chuckled, “Now, son, what brings you to Harrenhall and away from your beloved mother’s side? Hmm.” 

Jace blistered, “I came here to convince my sister out of her foolish decision to get engaged.” 

Daemon shook his head; his little dragons were an overprotective bunch, each taking the creed of his father Baleon and protecting each other fiercely, sometimes a little too much. Which was more than he could say his brother Viserys ever did for him. Daemon took a swing of the cup before answering his stepson. 

 “Our Aemma can be many things, but she has never been the one to make foolish decisions. The boy is a fierce fighter, and his armies will greatly benefit your mother’s fight for the iron throne,” explained Daemon, watching Jace's face turn sour with each word. 

Jace knew this path would be long, especially since his stepfather seemed to approve of the Lord of Raventree Hall. It would be harder to separate Aemma from him because whatever Aemma wanted, Daemon provided. 

Jace sighed. As he stood, he faced his father. “I will see for myself, but if I don’t like him, my mother has permitted me to break the betrothal if I am not impressed.” Jace bowed before turning to leave, only pausing once he heard Daemon call out. 

“Do what you must, but remember never at the expense of potentially harming your sister.” 

Jace nodded as he continued walking, determined to find his sister even more. Daemon sighed as he rubbed his face. His children would be his death. 

Jace continued walking, looking through the sea of gray, red, and black, trying to find a princess and lord but having no luck. While wandering, he found Cregan Stark as he was speaking to a woman wearing House Blackwood colors. When both noticed his presence, they paused and gave a quick bow. Jacaerys laughed and hugged Cregan, who was like a brother to him. 

“Cregan, it's good to see you again. How was your journey south?” Jace asked as he grinned at the Wolf of Winterfell. 

“Long and humid Jace. I’m sorry, lady Aly, but the Riverlands are much too humid for my taste,” stated Cregan as he stared at Aly Blackwood, who laughed. 

“No harm done, Lord Stark. I sometimes find the Riverlands too much. Good day, Prince Jacaerys. I’m Alysanne Blackwood, but you may call me Aly.” Aly introduced herself to the dragon prince. 

Who in turn smiled, wondering how close she was to Benjcot Blackwood. 

“Yes, it is pretty humid for my taste as well; I prefer Dragonstone’s winds to this,” Jace answered before turning to Aly. “Well Met, Lady Aly Blackwood, pray tell me who you might be to the Lord of House Blackwood?” questioned Jace. 

“I am his lady aunt, my prince,” explained Aly, confused about where the conversation would go. 

Jace nodded and looked around again, searching for a sign of his sister, but again, to no avail. Cregan and Aly turned to each other, guessing who he was looking for. Jace noticed their questioning stare. 

“Have you both seen either the Lord of Raventree Hall or the Crown Princess?” questioned Jace, staring at the two. 

Cregan and Aly shared a secret look, both shaking their heads no, 

“No, but let me look for them, my prince; I will bring them to you once I have found them,” replied Aly as she turned and walked away from the prince. 

Alyssanne walked towards the main Blackwood tent, chuckling at the sight before her: her nephew and the princess warmly embraced. As much as she hated to wake them, she knew Prince Jacaerys would blow a fuse at the current sight. Aly walked to them and quietly shook the princess awake. 

“My princess, you must wake up quickly….please, princess,” Aly loudly whispered, feeling relieved once the princess opened her violet eyes. 

Aemma sharply gasped, seeing Aly in her face, and accidentally dug her elbow into Benji’s stomach, causing the young lord to groan and wake from his slumber, then also sitting up, noticing his aunt. 

Aly shook her head; these two would be the death of her. “Princess, you need to go to your tent. Your brother is looking for you both and will not be pleased seeing what I saw. Go on now quickly from the back.” 

Aemma nodded as she stood, quickly pecking Benji in the space between his cheek and lips, and walked out. Benji sighed, fully waking up as his aunt glared at him. 

“I would rather not have my nephew turn into dragon food, Ben; you must impress Prince Jacaerys as much as you did with her father.” Explained Aly as she asked a maid for a bath to be ready. Alysanne walked towards the entrance before turning to her nephew. “Take a quick bath and meet us outside, please.’” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aemma quickly walked toward her tent, making sure no one noticed her, when Baela walked out of her tent, giving her a mischievous grin.

“Well, well, dearest sister, where are you coming from in a hurry? Hmm, from a certain lord who happens to wear a house color similar to ours?” taunted Baela. 

Aemma playfully rolled her eyes, pushing her away and walking to a steaming bath awaiting her. Aemma turned to her sister in thanks as she began to undress and walk in the tub, sighing as she felt the boiling water ease her sore muscles.  Baela sat behind her and began to wash her hair. 

“Jace was looking for you..” started Baela as she reached for the perfumes. 

“Yes, so I have been told,” whispered Aemma as she began to wash her body. 

“You need to be more careful, sister. Our father may have given his blessing, but Jace has special permission from your mother to reject the union if he doesn’t like Lord Blackwood. He already has a closed mindset, thinking that you should marry Lord Stark instead.” carefully explained Baela as she finished washing Aemma’s hair and walked to the main room to take out a beautiful, lightweight red dress with black accents. 

Once Aemma came out, she took the dress from Baela and began to dress herself, letting her sister tighten the corset laces. Baela paused, analyzing her sister. Luke’s death took a toll on everyone but more on Aemma and Rhaenyra; both women had dark circles under their eyes. But now, Aemma looked glowing, her skin and hair shining, bringing out the true Valyrian beauty bards loved to sing about. 

“So tell me of Lord Blackwood, what did this lord do that many others couldn’t?” asked Baela, noticing Aemma’s blush. 

As Aemma spun her tale from the first meeting at his hall to Sliverwing, allowing him to fly on her and the duel, Baela began to see that her sister was falling for the young lord. 

“You are falling in love with him…” stated Baela as she went in front of Aemma. 

Aemma sighed wistfully, “Earlier this week, I would have denied it, but now, I truly believe I have fallen, and he is with me.”  

Baela was glad that, as much as this union would be best for their family, having Aemma find love in it was the best outcome. Baela embraced her sister. 

“I’m glad… Jace will try to find faults, but I can tell there are none. I will support you in enlightening him.” Aemma grinned but noticed Baela wanting to say more. 

“Have you told him about you and Aegon?” 

Aemma inhaled sharply at the words, walking away from Baela.

“There is nothing to tell; it was a stupid promise two naive children made, nothing more; Benji has nothing to worry about.” 

Baela sighed; she knew bringing up Aegon would upset Aemma, but she also knew how far the greens would risk believing in their delusions. 

“ I still think you should tell him. You know how cruel Aegon is, and he will probably try to cause a stir once he finds out about your relationship,” explained Baela, taking hold of Aemma’s hand. 

Aemma sighed; she knew what Baela had said was true, but she did not want to worry Benji. Young Aemma didn’t know about the vipers of the court or what kind of monster her uncle would have become. She couldn’t love someone who enjoyed tormenting servants and her poor aunt Heleana. Furthermore, she definitely couldn’t love someone who celebrated her brother’s death. The Aegon that Aemma made a promise to was an illusion, an idea, and not reality. Benjicot was ten times the man that Aegon could only hope to be, and truth be told, Aegon never had her whole body sing like when she was with Benji. 

“I’ll think about a way to explain it to him; for now, I need to focus on Jace accepting Benji and making sure our betrothal continues.” Aemma decided as she and Baela walked to the feast hall. 

Everyone stood when they noticed the two princesses walking in, Baela sitting between her father and Jacaerys. Jacaerys had Cregan next to him, and a spot opened next to Cregan. Aemma noticed this and rolled her eyes at her brother’s blatant plan for her to sit next to the Stark. Noticing Benji farther down with his aunt, Aemma grinned and walked towards them. Jace, in confusion, watched as his sister whispered something to Alysanne who then stood and walked towards Cregan and took the seat next to the winter wolf. Aemma turned, smirking at her brother, and sat next to Benjicot, keeping eye contact as she kissed the Blackwood lord's cheek. Jace huffed in annoyance, much to the amusement of everyone else.

 As the feast continued and more wine was consumed, people joked around and made numerous toasts. The hall quieted once a brave and drunk Blackwood knight stood, swaying a little as he raised his cup. 

“A toast to the Sea Dragon Princess, The realm’s pearl, Crown Princess Aemma, for nearly beating our lord and showing us the true power of the dragon. Our House will thrive under you and our lord’s rule!”

All the men started cheering, whistling, and cracking jokes as the princess blushed at the words spoken to her. Benji smirked and whispered something into her ear that had caused the princess's blush to darken. Jace sniffed at the sight and was surprised once he saw Cregan stand up, raising his cup. 

Cregan grinned at the couple making the toast, “The greens will have a hard time with the likes of Princess Aemma and Lord Blackwood on our side. A toast to the Dragon Princess and her Raven lord; may they strike fear into our enemies' hearts!” 

Everyone cheered at the words of the Winter Wolf as Jace stared at his friend in shock. As the feast ended, everyone went on their way. Jace, noticing his sister leaving with the young lord, followed them, asking Cregan to accompany him. Aemma led her betrothed to where the dragons were resting, wanting to spend time with Sliverwing. As Jace watched, he was surprised to see how welcoming the she-dragon was to the lord. 

Cregan looked at Jace and sighed, “Jace, I think you should give it a rest; Benjicot is a good lad, and he will make a fine husband to your sister.” 

Jace glared, “So would you, Cregan; my sister should have at least considered you before making her rash decision. 

A joyous laugh broke their conversation as both turned to see Aemma laughing and trying to move Sliverwings' snout from Benjicot’s chest, who was laughing on the ground and being knocked down. 

“I love Aemma but only as a sister. Besides, Benjicot has expressed how much he will give up for her. Your sister runs too hot for my taste, and I don’t enjoy my feet leaving off the ground. While I run too cold for your sister, she loves to soar far too much to be stuck on the cold floors of the north. Benjicot fits with your sister; he doesn’t get burned from her heat but welcomes it; he took flight like his ravens. There is no better man for her than him.” explained Cregan, hoping Jace saw what he saw. 

Jace, staring at his sister, knew Cregan was right, but still, “We could have been brothers had you married my sister.” 

Cregan shook his head, chuckling,” We are brothers. We made the blood pack, and nothing can change that, but forcing marriage on your sister would not bring us closer. Give your sister your blessing and let her marry her lord.” Cregan clapped his hand on Jace’s shoulder as he returned to his tent. 

Jace sighed; he knew everything everyone had said was true; as Baela made her way to him, he kissed her hand and walked towards his sister. Aemma, noticing her brother, quickly helped Benjicot stand. 

“Brother, I hope you are not here to sour my mood,” questioned Aemma as she raised her eyebrow. 

Jace shook his head, “Not at all, dear sister, Lord Blackwood, I want to express my blessing to my sister's hand. I will send a raven to my mother, letting her know my decision, and expect her in a week for your wedding.”

Aemma was shocked, “a week? I’m not complaining, but isn’t it way too fast?” 

Jace explained what their mother said: because of the war, it was better to have a fast wedding just to be safe. Aemma nodded while taking Benji’s hand and leaning into his side. Jace stated that Baela and, hopefully, Lady Alysanne would help with the maiden and marriage cloaks. He also noted that the day would have three separate ceremonies: One in front of a weirwood tree in the ways of the north, one of the faith, and the last being a Valyrian one. Aemma scoffed at the faith ceremony but knew it had to be done. They could not risk the Greens declaring her marriage invalid. As the group separated, Aemma and Benjicot walked to the princess’s tent, stopping at the entrance. 

“As much as I wish for you to stay with me, I don’t want to risk the ire of my brother or father,” whispered Aemma as she stared into her betrothed eyes. 

Benji smiled, understanding; Jacaerys barely gave his blessing, so it was best not to push it. 

Aemma reached up to give a sweet kiss before asking, “Are you truly fine in marrying me in a week?” 

Benji caressed his beloved's face as he returned the kiss before placing his forehead onto hers. “I would be willing to marry you tonight. You have taken my heart, and I don’t wish you to return it.” 

Aemma’s heart felt like it would explode because of how much love she felt. “And you have mine, my love, my raven.” She whispered, kissing him once more, letting him feel all her love through the kiss. She separated herself from him, wishing a goodnight as she entered her tent. 

“Sweet dreams, my dragon,” whispered Benji as he stood outside her tent for a while before walking to his tent, hoping to dream of a loving princess.

love story .°୭̥ ❁ ˎˊ˗ jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

summary: jace knew he’d be bond to marry sooner or later, what he didn’t expect was for it to be someone so beautiful such as his sister .

warnings: causal HOD incest, cursing, pregnancy and birth , arranged marriage, sexual intimacy; p in v, oral (m receiving), yearning, jealousy (slight), mentions of miscarriage, slight reader x aemond (one sided)

all show rights of HOUSE OF DRAGON belong to hbo im simply a girl who likes to write ff about the obsessions i have🙈.

word count: 10,236 (ts took days)

the day had been in the middle of its time. the sun was near to setting and the sky was clearing with a beautiful color of pink and blue filling it.

jace had been woken up by the maids and his mother rushing into his room causing him to be startled to wake.

‘mother?’ he mumbled while sitting up only to be cut off by her rushing voice— ‘jacaerys it is important you rush to get ready, y/n will be on her way very soon—‘ while she rushed to his side to get him up and ready with the maids rushing to his side as well with his clothes to prepare.

‘wait, why is she coming here?’ he asked dumbly while he still tried to fight the previous sleep that consumed his body and mind.

rhaenyra smiling softly before placing her hands on each side of his face soothed down his messy hair and mumbled—‘you are to be betrothed, y/n is a very beautiful girl who has many accomplishments. she is coming back from her travels.’’ she told him.

‘will there be a ball?’ he asked hoping she’d say no only for her to give a small smile before she made exit so she could get the rest of the family up and ready while the maids walked to his side.

groaning a little at the fact the house would be filled with people he tried to ignore it.

y/n? he could only remember her very little. he knows that he's the daughter of daemon who is married to his mother, and birthed by his mother. making the two siblings by half blood.

jacaerys never had a problem with their family costumes. he knew they did it for a very good reason and he didn’t see anything wrong with it by far. the people and maids of the tower however, could strongly disagree.

when he was done and fitted into his clothes, his hair neatly done to show for appeal. making his way out of his chambers and down the great hall that was brightened softly with the fire set on the sides of the wall.

when he finally reached the throne room was when he was sent with the rest of his family all standing and waiting for him and y/n to arrive. the family all dressed to perfection. his mother in a dress, his father with his hair neatly done and brushed back along with his brother who had been neatly put together as well.

‘when will she arrive?’ lucerys asked his mother.

‘she should be here any minute now’ she told him while placing her hand on the back of his head to sooth his hair.

‘i hope so, nobody at this time of night would expect a guest. let alone a gathering for a simple meeting such as this.’ daemon grumbled. he looked as though he had just woken up, causing rhaenyra to smile a bit.

‘she is your daughter—‘

‘i never said she wasn’t welcome, just…this could’ve waited until the morning.’ he says back while looking down at her. rhaenyra on the other hand, had no problem at all. she was beyond happy to get to see her daughter again, especially so soon.

is this marriage went well, she would have to move back into the house with her, and that alone made her happy. y/n had always been a woman of choice, she never stayed in one place and would rather do things a man would do.

but that didn’t mean she didn’t like being a woman, she accepted it more than anything and didn’t let anyone choose the house she was to live because of her sex.

finally, the great doors opened and about ten guards came in on each side, when they were fully into the room with their armor on, they set themselves into the room, positioned perfectly across each other.

and finally the guest of the night, y/n. she came walking in with her long white hair resting behind her perfectly with two braids. some strands fell along her shoulders. her dress that almost resembled ones her mother used to wear but it had a bit more skin to show along her cleavage and arms.

jacaerys was expecting her to look different, but what he wasn’t expecting was her too look as beautiful as she did right now. her skin, soft, glowing under the light of the room, her eyes deep purple; she was the only one in the whole family to receive such, which had its own mysterious beauty. he felt as though his world slowed around him and his face grew warm.

she smiled sweetly while dropping her arms that were held together in formality to hug her mother who hurried to wrap her arms around her form. he watched as she held a mature look her her smile. daemon smiled back at y/n who gave him a more natural greeting.

the two were close but not as close as she was with her mother. jacaerys waited patiently as y/n made her way down the line of her family by hugging lucerys who hugged her back with a smile, his head rested near her chest.

when she finally got to jacaerys, was when he felt his posture straighten up. he held his head as high as she did.

‘y/n’ he mumbled as she rolled her eyes and shook her head softly; going into him for a warm hug as well. he was sure she knew why she was here, he just didn’t know why she seemed to not be phased by the fact she was marrying her slightly older brother.

‘come now, we shall discuss matters elsewhere.’ their mother called them with her hand outstretched and open for y/n to take, daemon close behind the two who talked amongst themselves. jacaerys watched them as lucerys came next to him with a grin.

‘are you happy to be marrying? i’m sure you are, especially to y/n’ he teased but underneath it all was truth. jacaerys inhaled and spoke lowly—‘i’m happy to be marrying a familiar face and not someone i don’t know…you would know how it feels soon’. he told his brother who almost gulped at the fact of getting married.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

when they got to the dining hall, there was food all set out, some being still brought to the table by maids who rushed, making sure they didn’t slip up and get yelled at for taking to long.

sitting at their spots, it was almost a custom to sit by whoever you were betrothed to. y/n taking her seat in a chair close to her mother with jacaerys close behind her as he sat in the chair beside.

lucerys sitting a bit on his own but across from his mother. daemon was the first to begin eating, leaving the rest of the family to follow. y/n has been reaching for things and jacaerys seeing, he grabbed them for her and she smiled sweetly in thanks.

rhaenyra had tried to observe how the two would act with each other before she made her final decision in marrying the two. if she were to marry them, she’d want it to be on pure intentions and not just for marriage. she watched them, y/n saying something leaving him to smile deeply.

she could see a faint pink hue on his cheeks making her smile. she didn’t want to marry them off, but she didn’t want them to be forced into a marriage with someone they didn’t know. she would rather have them together, because she knew they will take care of one another.

while she watched a bit more, she observed how jacaerys poured her a cup of whatever she was having when she was finished, filled her plate with things she was done eating and talked to occasionally in between each bite. daemon could see rhaenyra watching them and it drove him to do the same.

he didn’t have much of a choice, but he was happy with what he was eyeing so far—‘children.’ she began, her three kids looking at her in unison, y/n’s hands that held her fork and knife, let them go slowly to be placed on each side of her plate. jacaerys, looking up at her while he gulped down a bit of his wine and lucerys looking up immediately when he swallowed the last bit of chicken.

‘i’m sure you know why y/n is here…for marriage.’ she added, the two; y/n and jacaerys instinctively straightening their posture together.

‘i have made this decision, for pure intentions, and for the knowledge that you two are in the search for a betrothal. myself, have been thinking . and i chose jacaerys and y/n. i do not wish for you two to be in something that is not pure.’ rhaenyra told them as they listened closely. when she went into further detail, they only nodded in understanding.

y/n hadn’t been bothered by the decision her mother made because she knew she meant well. after a bit more decision and the new knowledge that the marriage would be that very night, along with a ball; was when y/n was thrown off.

‘mother, tonight? why not in the morning? let along a gathering this late?’ what she had asked only further proved how much of her father she has in her. smiling softly before thinking she finally nodded in agreement.

‘fine, i see that it would be a hassle to have everyone and everything ready by then, it will happen sometime soon. for now, y/n, get settled in and feel welcomed as always. this is your home after all.’ rhaenyra told her daughter who smiled at her and her father who grinned at the fact she was able to get her mother to change plans until tomorrow.

for now, the family all sat and ate together in peace. jacaerys still occasionally helping y/n with things she couldn’t reach for it was across the table which she would smile and lean into him as a thanks.

‘lucerys, how has things been for you? smooth?’ y/n swallowed some of her food down with a sip of wine while her focused stayed on her brother. he nodded and began to speak.

‘things have been good, sword fighting is well, and i am to be betrothed’ he smiled a bit when y/n did.

betrothed? to whom?’ she pondered while leaning forward on the the table.

‘to rhaena’ he told. y/n nodded her head knowing that she was her half sister on her fathers side.

‘mm, i see. and how are things going in that area?’ y/n wondered. she hoped it was nothing but good, her wishing came with grace when he smiled softly at his plate.

‘things are all well, nothing bad has happened and we are moving smoothly.’ he told his sister who smiled warmly at this.

‘that is good to know. well, all things aside, i will see you all in the morning. the travel here has made me extremely exhausted.’ as y/n stood up she mumbled a small—‘excuse me’ to jacaerys who went to stand up to take her to her chambers only for her to shake her head slowly and smile at him.

when y/n made her exist, rhaenyra was a bit hesitant, almost getting up to follow her until daemon stopped her from getting up and out of her chair.

‘but—‘ she went to intervene but daemon shook his head again—‘she needs rest. she’s tired, you will see her in the morning.’ he told her.

she sighed heavily with displeasure but smiled when she noticed her sons looking at her. she tried to keep her composure and let it go but the fact that her daughter looked upset when she left didn’t sit right with her at all.

‘i’m sorry, i must go’ was all she said before hurrying to get up and leave the room. daemon sighed, letting her go this time knowing he couldn’t do much about it. lucerys and jacaerys looked at each other with hesitation.

jacaerys deep down feeling a turning in his stomach, his hands closing in on each other to hold one another tightly. was she alright? was the marriage arrangement not to her liking at all? was he not to her liking?

the thoughts running wild in his head making him crave the comfort of his bed.

‘i will, go for rest now.’ he said before he departed. leaving daemon and lucerys alone at the table. lucerys giving him a awkward smile before taking a bite of his food.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

as y/n walked down the hallway, her hand on her stomach, she felt as though she’d pass out right then and there. she was almost clear that she could hear another pair of shoes close behind leaving her to freeze in her spot and turn around.

seeing her mother she let out a sigh of relief—‘mother, what is it? why aren’t you eating—‘ just then rhaenyra tugged at y/n’s arm causing her to stumble close into her mothers arm.

she hadn’t cried in years, and just a simple hug from her mother caused her to do so.

‘oh, tala.’ she sighed heavily, hugging her more tightly leaving y/n to let a soft whimper spill from her throat below. tugging her into her room which was very close by they went to sit down on a nearby spot.

the room holding warmth by the light and the fire close by.

‘you have nothing to fear—‘

‘mother but what if i cannot? what if i…what if i can’t produce again—‘

‘no, no, don't think like that. you will be just fine, you will be strong, and you will get through it all.’ she held y/n’s face in her hands as the tears fell from her face and y/n’s. she shook her head slowly before pulling her daughter into another hug.

y/n’s head buried into her mothers neck.

years ago, when y/n was having more of an experience, she fell pregnant. her mother knew of it when she wrote to her. but the night came when she was expecting her child in arms, only to be met with a stillborn. the night was everlasting, exhausting and filled with pain and tears. y/n hadn’t never cried as much as she did that night.

ever since the lost of her daughter; maera. though she hadn’t had much to see, y/n was haunted by the memory of the faint strands of white hair, before her baby was taken from her by the midwives as they tried their hardest to no account.

y/n had been stuck in her chambers, not eating, sleeping, or moving from her bed. she was stuck in time, frozen. hugging the blood covered blanket that should have held life and the cries of her baby girl.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

in his own chambers, jacaerys had been pacing around and around. in deep thinking of what could be going on with y/n. he knew she either had a bad feeling about the marriage, or a bad feeling about him. he just didn’t know for sure.

sitting down finally in a chair next to the fire that was lit a while ago, he started to pick at his nails whilst his leg bounced with anticipation, unable to stop.

did she not have a liking to him? they grew up together, neatly. if it weren’t for her always leaving they probably would have been closer. did she not trust their mothers judgment? did she not agree? or was she already betrothed—

‘jacaerys’ a rough voice came through his room, knocking him into reality and out of his thoughts. turning to see daemon who held himself high near the door.

‘yes?’ she answered, standing up to show formality. daemon walked over slowly, his gaze mainly trained to the floor before he sat in the chair across from where jacaerys was once sitting

‘sit’ he told him, jacaerys doing exactly as told. they sat in a bit of silence before he began to speak.

‘what is on your mind’ he asked. though he would have preferred his mothers comfort since she was much better at it, he didn’t mind his.

‘i am afraid y/n is already betrothed—‘

‘she is not, we would have known. what’s the real reason?’ daemon cut off his choice of thinking before jacaerys cleared it throat.

‘am i…am i not the right fit for her? was mothers thinking possibly wrong?’ he asked his main questions as daemon looked at him with his attention.

looking into the fire next to the two as he thought of what next to say, daemon looked into his lap before getting more comfortable into his chair, speaking—‘your mother is never wrong. she knows exactly what she is doing and she knows what is best. y/n and you are the perfect fit for each other. your mother thinks so—‘

‘do you as well?’ he asked, his question straight forward as daemon looked down and sighed.

he didn’t disagree nor agree with rhaenyra with marrying y/n to jacaerys, but that was only because she is one of his daughters. he thinks the same with rhaena and baela. but besides that, he doesn’t disagree with anything else.

‘yes’ was all he said before looking at jacaerys who looked him into the eyes before they’re vision focused on the fire next to them.

in the back of his mind, he wondered if y/n thought the same, if she thought they were a perfect match. he wondered if she was okay, or even what she was thinking right now.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

that next morning, the family had been notifying others of the soon wedding that was to be set soon. leaving room and time for y/n and jacaerys to get closer.

as of right now, he had been waiting for her to get done with getting ready but the maids. his outfit was simple, nothing too heavy and nothing too fancy. his hair was neatly combed back.

‘were you waiting for me?’ a soft voice rang through the stone walls of the hall around them. turning with his hands behind his back, he was almost stunned to see y/n’s appearance. she had a long dark dress that was low cut across her chest, enough to show off her jewelry.

her hair half out and half braided.

‘no…no, i mean, yes. i’m waiting for you, i have a day set for us, if you don’t mind joining?’ he asked as she smiled sweetly. once she stood across from him, her hands holding one another in front of her, she nodded.

‘i would be honored.’ she commented before wrapping her arm around jacaerys who was stunned but grew blushed around his face at her touch. the two of them walking through the hall arm in arm, they both looked at each other every now and again.

‘you look handsome this morning, any special reasons as to why?’ she teased while he smiled.

‘well i am to be married and i wanted to impress my soon wife, i hope its working.’ he leaned into her a bit as she let out a soft laugh.

‘it is’ she told him as he smiled warmly.

‘you look absolutely beautiful’ he told her while they made their way outside of the house, the flourishing garden around them, the plants thick, colorful and full to its extent. none of the withering and all of them wonderful.

‘why thank you, i had this put together just for you after all’ she told him leaving him to look down at the dress and her brest that swelled with each inhale she took, then threatening to spill from the enclosure of the darkened cloth around her body.

‘for me?’ he muttered, their body’s close. his hand making its way to her own that she fell previously to her side, now in his grasp. the rings that decorated her fingers fell victim to his fingers as they played with them.

‘yes, this material exactly, used to be your favorite. the color as well, i hope that did not change. you mentioned how the material went with everything. it is rough on the outside, soft on the in.’ she told as he watched her eyes open and close, her eyelashes thick and full.

y/n always was the most beautiful of them all. the town even grew to love her for her bravery, kindness, beauty and loving ways that she showed with anyone and not just her family.

when he heard how she remembered his favorite color and material in clothing he nearly fell weak—‘you remembered?’ he muttered only for her to hum with a tilt of her head and a smile.

he felt a bit out on the spot now, she’d taken the time to put thought into her outfit whilst he just let whatever was put on him by the maids be his outfit.

‘i feel a bit out there now.’ he told her truthfully. pulling her along as they walked away and near the ocean.

‘why is that?’ she asked him, looking up at him.

‘you had thought of me while getting your dress on while i only hoped i was to your appeal.’ he revealed while shamelessly staring at the sand below their shoes.

she smiled warmly before setting herself in front of him making him stop, placing her hands on each side of his face to lift his head to look her in the eyes.

she smiled warmly and shook her head—‘that is nothing to be upset about. i did it because i wanted to, if it makes you feel better, i will wear something else tomorrow.’ she told him to leave him to shake his head.

‘no it is alright, i know what i will wear next time.’ he told her with a smile as she nodded her head and hummed.

he just now, taking the time to study her face more closely. he remembered each mark on her face, even from when he was just a boy. her hair, the way it grew longer over the years. he remembers when she promised her parents that she wouldn’t touch a strand of it.

her skin that was soft to the touch. y/n took the time to observe as well, she looked at how his hair grew, its dark strands thick and curly, his eyes, dark but soft to look at. his face more mature than ever as his face grew more defined and fitted his stature.

she couldn’t help but notice how his shoulders looked more thick as well—had he grown elsewhere?

she was completely aware of how he would look at her lips every now and again, his eyes stuck with small lights that could look like stars from the sun.

‘y/n…may i—‘

‘yes’ was all she said knowing what he would ask. almost immediately he leaned into her body, his lips kissing hers passionately. he held her head in his hands as she let her hands rest along his biceps.

their kisses being nothing but pure and sweet. he was already intoxicated by her just from her touch and her soft hands. as she pulled apart from him, he found himself chasing her lips by slowly leaning in even more only for her to place her hands along his chest, holding him in place.

he gulped the warm spit that grew in a rush in his throat from the kiss they shared, if they had continued it, he was sure that their wedding would have to be that very night.

‘y/n—‘

‘we cannot…not yet jacaerys…we must wait till we are married.’ she told him as she herself struggled to stay away from his lips that were plumper than before. she smiled a bit at his expression leaving him to frown his eyebrows in slight confusion before he smiled with her and soon followed with a laughed.

the two of them holding each other.

later that day the two had been out doing things such as dragon riding, eating small snacks, sitting with each other under the large tree in the garden, he found himself laying in her lap as she rubbed her hand over his hair in comfort.

he grew addicted to her touch, the way she would comb her fingers through his black curls, scratching his head even, sometimes she’d even touch his face to follow the structure of his nose bridge or even his cheeks.

his eyes stayed closed in complete bliss. she had been telling him small stories about her trips and how far she’d gotten. though she missed it, she was over the moon to be home with her family again.

he was pleased to know that she’d been happy to be here with him—and the family too, of course.

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later that night, as jacaerys laid in his chambers he thought hard about how he’d impress y/n with his clothes tomorrow, what was it she liked the most? she adored the color f/c, maybe he could get something with that.

she loved when the material was perfect against her fingertips, she hated when they were rough to the touch. he hoped his description would help the maids tomorrow, he hoped he had something for y/n.

unknowingly, she stayed in her chambers thinking of her clothes for him as well, looking in her chest of dresses that she was gifted, she found the perfect one, the color dark, material soft, and the dress revealing.

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‘y/n, it is morning’ she woke to the soft voice of her lady in waiting. y/n groaned into the pillow, her white hair dismembered and all over the pillow under herself.

‘come on now, prince jacaerys has told me to make sure you get up without a fuss today. the two of you have quite the day planned.’ she smiled warmly, getting a warm bath ready for y/n who was trying her hardest to get up and out of bed for the sake of jacaerys.

once she was finally up, she walked over to the bath, slowly taking her night gown off and sinking into the water that was bubbled over. her lady; getting the sponge to clean her, pouring water into her hair to run it down and applying other things to make her body clean and smell fresh.

‘had he hinted as to where we will be going today?’ she asked with a small smile, leaning forward and resting her arms on the bath rim, her head settled down on them both. her lady smiled softly as she got out her outfit.

instead of the one she had picked out just for him that day, she was met with her dragon back riding outfit that was all black once more, thicker than what she planned. nonetheless, she smiled at the thought of getting to ride d/n.

‘we will be riding today? for how long?’ she asked happily, standing up, the water running down her body as her naked fram gleamed in the light around.

‘he said that you will need this and a dress for later, perhaps you wear the dress you planned?’ her lady asked her with a told of her head. y/n nodded as she made her way out of the bath with a loose towel wrapped around her body.

getting out of the tub and sitting where she could begin to get ready to see her future husband, she never thought it would be him. but she remembered when she was younger she hoped it would be from how sweet and kind he always treated her.

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as jacaerys waiting once more out in the dragon pit, he was very nervous; beyond even. he’d hate for anything to happen, he had recurring imagery of him falling off vermax whilst trying to get on. he’s done it before what was stopping him now?

sighing as he waited a bit longer, he couldn’t get the thought of her soft lips that were once upon his, licking his own softly as if he’d still taste her sweetness setted on them.

she was gentle in the way she spoke, and kissed, and held. she was everything, elegant, beautiful, and lovely.

smiling at the thought of her smile and the way her hands would gentaly touch his own, his heart began to race at the thought only to be dragged out of it when he heard her.

‘sorry for my lateness once again.’ he looked to see her wearing her dragon back clothes, he could practically see the thick material from here, along with the padded shoulders. her hair braided all over to decorate, a glimpse of red gems in her hair.

‘nothing to apologize for. i hope you did not make it a hassle to get out of bed today?’ he jokes as she made her way next to him. rolling her eyes as she shook her head—‘i gotten straight up when my lady mentioned you. wouldn’t want you waiting forever now, hm?’ she fixed his shirt slightly before patting it down and walking away to her dragon.

he touched where she had fixed and smiled before following her down the steps.

‘how is d/n?’ he asked her.

‘she’s is everything, well, healthy and a mother—‘

‘a mother?’ he asked, shocked. y/n nodded happily while she picked up some of her dress to make sure she didn’t trip over it.

‘she had four beautiful eggs, they have yet to hatch but; she did amazing. she was over the moon to be a mother.’ y/n told jacaerys with a smile as she remembered how d/n chippered and had a look of a smile on her face all that evening.

she also remembered how proud she was of her for doing something she was so scared of. but, never did she think she would tell him; she couldn’t. how would he feel if his betrothed told him she wasn’t sure if she would carry a child once again. she didn’t want to think of it; the thought made her sick to the stomach. and ache in her heart.

once they finally arrive to the pit, they heard slight chains and rattling going on, hearing every now and again a faint roar. y/n hated that they were out down here; away from the world and sky where they belong.

but she knows that she couldn’t do anything about it either.

‘how is vermax?’ y/n looked over at jacaerys who looked over at a her.

‘he is well, no children, but well’ he told her with a nod and a smile as she did one back.

‘has d/n gotten any bigger?’ he wondered only leaving y/n who shrug her shoulders while pulling him by the hand.

finally getting to where d/n was, he could hear them moving, the chains dragging against the stone floor, trying to see where they were, he was bet with a gust of wind in his face.

they were standing right in front of him and he couldn’t see it. the noise of grumbling from d/n echoed throughout as he stood still not knowing what to do. y/n however, smiled slightly.

d/n never liked to get close to anyone but y/n. she just wasn’t fond of it, but seeing her get close enough to smell jacaerys made her smile. even as kids; d/n never bothered to even let him feed her.

‘okay, d/n, don’t scare him now’ she spoke while leaning forward and over to the side of her dragon, touching their scaly beard around their neck and leaning into it. d/n hummed softly while pulling back from jacaerys with one final breeze of air moving around him.

‘sorry’ she said while jacaerys shook his head dismissing her apology.

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finally out in the opening but close to the water line, the two rode their dragons throughout the air.

y/n leaning forward a bit, holding onto d/n’s scales—she never felt the need for anything to hold her stay on, she was fine enough with herself and her hands.

‘having fun?’ he yelled over the wind all around them. y/n looked over and nodded her head—‘i am! and you?’ she yelled back leaving him to nod his head.

he couldn’t help but take notice to how beautiful she looked with the wind wrapped around her, her white hair flowing in the wind. he couldn’t help but take note of how her body looked as well, its figure fitted well into her outfit. he cleared it throat and looked away in a hurry before his thoughts could linger.

vermax however seemed to know exactly what was going on and shook his head with a grumble. jacaerys looked down and patted him, smoothing salting his sorry’s.

how long until the marriage night again?

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when they got back into the castle, y/n let d/n ride around freely for that night before putting her back in the dragon pit. jacaerys didn’t see an issue with vermax staying out as well, so he let the two play with each other for the time being.

inside their chambers, y/n took another warm bath along with jacaerys—in his own—to get the smell of dragon back off of them for that night. y/n was excited to say the least.

hurrying to get in and out so she could get her dress on, she was happy to see it still smoothly placed out on her bed, her lady setting it out while she was out that day.

‘how should you wear your hair today, princess?’ she asked her while y/n sat in front her her with her dress and and hair still damp from it’s previous wash.

we can leave it out for tonight. she said while grabbing a piece of it and stroking it smoothly while her lady combed it out. her hair had been her treasure, her gift from her parents. she loved how long it had gotten, even her mother commented about how beautiful it looked.

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sitting in the dining room as the table was set for two, he made sure to include all of her favorite foods, fruits, drinks and sweets. y/n wasn’t much of a eater but she had her favorites and she would eat them over and over again.

he remembers years ago when he caught her in the kitchen eating the lemons off of the lemon cakes before the gathering.

he soon found out she’d gotten that hobby from their mother who had eaten lemons while she was pregnant with y/n and before.

smiling at the thought of her eating them he was interrupted by the sound of shoes hitting the stone flooring around them. looking up to see y/n with her hair out as it fell around her shoulders.

her hair was so long it stopped near her butt and how badly did he want to take his hands and run it though her hair with her laying beside him.

her dress, long and white, around her biceps was a thin layer of for it to slowly fall into a softy and flowy material around her. the things holding up her dress being two straps tied together around and to the back of her neck. seeing more of her body made him crave, starve for her more and more.

blinking slowly as he tried to break the curse she had on him he spoke softly—‘y/n, please?’ he said, outstretched his hand to the chair next to his at the edge of the table. smiling she made her way over to the seat as he pulled it out for her and she sat, her hands in her lap.

pushing her seat in before he walked over to the wine pitcher, he poured her a glass in the metal cup and let her smile before taking it once he was done pouring.

‘thank you, jacaerys.’ she said with her eyes focused on his. he smiled and made his way to his chair not far from hers at all. pouring his own cup before he watched her sip hers before he did for himself.

the two had no clue what to say, what y/n did know what that she was holding herself back from making any sort of move on him whatsoever. he look handsome, and his hair fitting perfectly.

‘i hoped you enjoyed the day i planned, im afraid i am stuck on what to do next—‘

‘don’t worry about that, i enjoyed today and i'm happy you picked that. i was actually feeling quite down about not seeing d/n for some time now, and you helped me, thank you.’ she said while placing her hand on his own.

he inhaled sharply at the touch of her hand and tried to compose himself. smiling at her softly before he muttered—‘i feel we are too far from each other—‘

‘this is fine’ she laughed softly before looking at the table. seeing a small lemon cakes, she looked at him before pulling one onto her plate and picked the lemon off top before etching the actual cake itself.

he stuffed a laugh but didn’t cover it up well enough causing her to look over at him with her eyebrows frowned in confusion.

‘what is it?’ she asked while he covered his mouth.

‘i knew you would eat the lemon first before the cake, you always did when we were children.’ he noted leaving her to look down at the cake and laugh a bit.

nahh is that by the way? you and mother eat the lemons mostly rather than the main treat?’ he asked with interest when or leaning forward into his seat and his arms set on the table as y/n leaned in as well.

‘well, i just always liked them. the sour taste and sometimes sweet if your lucky. mother has main part in it however, eating them as i was still in the womb.’ she jokes with a small laugh as jacaerys laughed.

‘don’t think your all innocent either! you’d eat nothing but bread for dinner after dinner until you finally gave the other goods a chance’ she revealed leaving him to gasp at the knowledge.

‘what?’

‘yeah, you did! as mother’ she laughed as he looked shocked, he knew he would later ask, however as of now he wanted to stay with y/n.

‘is the food to your liking?’ he asked while she chewed some other things that was set out, she nodded cheerfully as she nodded back.

eating at the food on his plate as well he began to think of something to speak before she spoke—‘jacaerys…’ looking up at her. placing his fork and knife down to focus on her completely.

‘yes?’ he muttered.

‘what if the wait till marriage is shorter? why not—‘

‘morning? or evening?’ he asked already had been thinking of this. she smiled warmly while looking at him.

‘whenever is best’ she said. he smiled deeply before leaning forward to pull her in for a kiss, her lips having a sour and sweet aftertaste from the lemon she once ate. he smiled into it as she hummed in delight

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things revolving around y/n and jacaerys were the best they’ve ever been, the outcome of their relationship was just what rhaenyra knew it would be. pure, sweet, and loving and nothing but ecstasy.

the two however found it more and more difficult to keep their hands off one another, especially when they were alone in the night in the garden and moonlight surrounded by them. the only people present had been themselves and the sea.

over the time, rhaenyra had talked on and on with daemon which the two of them realized it was time for the wedding, it was time to send out invites for the wedding.

when y/n had been notified of the wedding going on, she was over the moon, especially jacaerys who’d practically jumped from his seat when he was told by his mother.

the home in dragonstone had been busy the whole day, chefs cooking, maids cleaning and decorating by placing tables into the throne room, the lady’s getting y/n ready as jacaerys got ready as well.

though for y/n it was more of a hassle, with her mother in the room and her judgment at the same time was basically insult after insult on how the dresses didn’t match the meaning of a wedding or how the colors wouldn’t look right on y/n’s skin, on how the jewelry was unfitting it wouldn’t match the energy.

sighing with placing her hand on her head in stress, rhaenyra looked at one dress that hasn’t been looked at yet, she stood up and patted it down with her hand soothing it out.

‘y/n, look at this.’ she softly told her as y/n turned around, ehr face decorated with stress of the moment only for it to relax once seeing the dress.

‘why hasn’t this been shown?’ she asks the lady’s who shrugged only for one to speak.

‘we had thought you wouldn’t want that, princess.’ she told y/n who looked at her, the floor then let her head turn back to the dress in front of her.

she practically felt as if the wind had been taken from her lungs and hung above her to grasp. the dress was beautiful, the white dress being long, flowy with its fabric. she smiled a bit, wondering what jacaerys would think of.

‘this one please.’ she told as they nodded, one grabbing the dress for her to be fitted into and soon later her hair done, twisted, braided and curled up. the rings, necklace and earrings matching her dress.

when she was finished, rhaenyra was stunned, placing a hand on her chest that fell down to hold over her stomach as if y/n was back into her first home. smiling sweetly at her daughter who smiled brightly back.

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as jacaerys paced back and forward, dressed head down with his wedding outfit he’d been thinking over and over, waiting longer and longer to finally get told it was time.

they all needed to wait until the guest had shown first before they had gotten the chance to go into the throne room and sit into the longer table in front of the room.

finally sitting down with his leg bounding up and down in a rush, she had started to bite on his fingers and pick them. for what seemed like forever, he finally got told it was time.

standing up in a rush, he soothed down his clothes before walking out into the large stone hallway, he got to work with his brother and step father, lucerys and daemon dressed in their own formal wear.

he was beyond anxious for y/n and her hands on his. over time he found that she was able to build her own comfort and he found himself stuck in it, desperate for it any moment of any day.

‘you look like your going to puke everywhere’ lucerys teased while laughing only for jacaerys to roll his eyes and daemon smirk.

‘i won’t, if i were i think that would ruin the whole wedding’ he looked at lucerys who snickered and looked forward as they were face to face with the large doors that soon opened to reveal a room filled with people of any and all.

the table where they’d be sitting at, across from them, in front of the room, their dinner and wine cups already set into place.

‘king daemon targaryen, prince lucerys velaryon and prince jacaerys velaryon!’ a voice boomed from somewhere in the room as the crowd clapped for them. walking their way to the seats, jacaerys sitting in the chair on the left of daemon who sat next to empty chairs.

as he sat, his focus trained into the door he was brought with a bit of happiness, his nerves jumping everywhere the more the moment got real.

‘queen rhaenyra targaryen, princess baela targaryen, princess rhaena targaryen!’ the voice called out once more, the doors revealing his mother and cousins as they wore smiles, their hair neatly done and dressed for the occasion.

walking to the table, rhaenyra sat down next to daemon who unknowingly leaned into her with her looking at him for the acknowledgment he craved from her.

not soon after—‘king viserys targaryen, queen alicent hightower, prince aegon targaryen the second; prince aemond targaryen, princess helaena targaryen!’ attention focused to the other family as they wore their colors, alicent wore green along with her father, ser otto hightower.

them walking to the table as well, jacaerys already regretting them being here once aegon grabbed the wine pitcher and cup in front of him, drowning himself in it before the event even began.

and not soon after, the voice was heard once more—‘princess y/n targaryen, heir to the iron throne!’ the voice boomed as jacaerys’ attention turned to the door to see his now; wife. standing their with her hands in front of her form, her hair done beautifully and the dress fitting her perfectly.

he felt like someone just punched him in the chest and deprived him of oxygen. her had practically lit up the room with her presence, her eyes full of innocence and wonder, the reflection of the fire littered along the walls as they were hung in iron pitches.

some in the crowd audibly gasped as they saw her and her dress. smiling a bit when he saw she was nervous but still managed to smile at everyone, although her eyes were trained on him.

he found comfort wherever y/n was. she brought that to him without having to do much or say anything. herself alone was his comfort and his peace.

when she finally got to the point where she and jacaerys were practically next to each other, him sitting but leaving a back a bit for her to place a hand along his back while she walked, her hand leaving a burning sensation that lingered once she was seated next to her mother.

‘let us begin!’ just then chatter amongst everyone wa aloud and laughter boomed along the room. y/n and helaena talked a bit but not much, she had asked if y/n had any kids or had the desire to have any which y/n replied with—

“of course. there’s nothing more innocent in the world than a child made of love.” her sentence making helaena only softly nod and smile.

jacaerys and y/n although had been sneaking glances and smiles at each other, which didn’t go unnoticed by rhaenyra and daemon along with alicent and viserys.

deep down some people in the room wished they’d had something as pure hearted as them.

‘so, married.’ a voice spoke, looking to the side to see her uncle; aemond, looking at her with his eye, one covered with his black eyepatch.

‘yes, and you?’ she asked with a small smile, leaning into the table to get some sort of closeness between the two.

‘no, mother however has tried to find a suitable wife but—‘

‘none seem to know how to put up with you?’ she laughed a bit when he smirked slightly.

the two had a sort of history. they both had a short lived relationship that was mainly focused on lust and mother more—or for one side that is.

unbeknownst to y/n, aemond had wished upon thousands of stars to be betrothed to y/n, but once he found out she already was, he didn’t know how to feel. not in the slightest did he think they’re was someone else that was better paired with y/n than himself.

when he found out about the wedding however, he didn’t know it was even possible. a small ounce of him hopped she’d fallen pregnant that night they slept together, but his wish was fallen onto deaf ears.

seeing her tonight sparked things he thought he’d buried long ago, locked and sealed away for him to not feel again.

her body had matured into itself perfectly, her laugh,her eyes, her hair, her smile. everything came crashing down on him like a stone. as he let his eyes linger into y/n who spoke to her mother with a smile, he was unaware of the stone hard eyes of her now husband ; jacaerys.

he’d noticed the way he looked at her and he’d felt something he never did before. his heart felt uneasy and a sick feeling bubbled into his chest. he wished he could flip the table over or yell out of discomfort at aemond, but he couldn’t do anything.

all he could do was glare at the man starting at his wife.

clearing his throat before he could say anything, music started to play into the room that grabbed y/n’s attention causing her to turn her head and forced aemond to look down at the table so he wouldn’t get caught.

laughter in the room got louder as they gotten up to dance, y/n clapped her hands to the beat of the instruments and she was called by aemond who whispered—‘may i have a dance with the wife of the night?’ he asked her, she happily smiled and let him stand first before he held out a hand for her to take.

standing up with one hand in his and the other holding her dress, rhaenyra immediately looked at her son, jacaerys who’d been watching, his jaw clenching and unclenching over and over so he’d keep his composure.

he’d been letting his hands fiddle with the knife next to his plate. lucerys who’d paid no mind as he spoke to his betrothed; rhaena as they laughed and smiled at each other. alicent watching her son and y/n closely along with her husband.

‘it is alright’ his mother told him in a whisper only for him to pay no mind and focus his attention on his wife who’d been dancing with another man.

not taking any more of it when aemond grabbed her by the waist and picked her up along with the others, he slammed down the knife he’d been fiddling with. walking down the steps and making his way to his wife as she danced with laughter.

grabbing into her soft, bare arm, she looked in a shock only to see her husband—‘prince jacaerys, how may i please you?’ she joked with a smile, his once nerves calmed and he smiled a bit only to look up at aemond who watched the two in anger and slight longing for something he’d kill to have.

‘sorry prince aemond, i’d like to dance with my wife.’ jacaerys muttered with his eyes shooting daggers at aemond who only walked away without a word.

y/n noticed this and knew immediately, grabbing onto her husband hand—‘is my husband jealous?’ she teased as jacaerys scoffed but nodded nonetheless.

‘i was, another man dancing with my wife? how could i stand bye and let it happen?’ he tilted his head as y/n smiled and leaned into him. their body’s holding one another, pulling each other apart as they were put to dance with others, but always finding each other back to one another.

smiles at the two all around the room as they focused on one another and no one else.

‘helaena asked me if i were with child’ she told, letting the conversation begin between the two over the music.

he tilted his head and smiled—‘one day you will be, is that what you want?’ he asked her as she looked at him warmly, her body pressed against his own as his breath slowly began to become staggered.

‘more than anything, with you.’ she told him with her emotions filling. he felt his face grow warm as they held each other. he so badly wanted to kiss her but he didn’t know if it would be formal so he’d have to wait for the night.

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when everyone left and the wedding was official, y/n and jacaerys had found each other entangled in one another’s arms, kissing passionately and roughly while touching places they’ve never touched on each other before.

the crackling of the fire nearby filling the room beside the sounds of the twos lips smacking and slight groans from jacaerys whenever y/n pulled apart from him.

‘what is it we do?’ he asked, mostly unaware of the full steps of actually consuming. y/n found this sweet and placed her hands on his chest.

‘just relax, and let me pleasure you, my valzȳrys’ she told him while pushing him to the large bed behind him. letting him sit down while his gaze stayed focused and trained on her eyes. she smiled as she let the dress around her fall down.

him being met with her full figure with nothing to bond it. he felt his air stagger, his body grew warm and himself hard. his hands automatically finding themselves around her waist to pull her into him.

she let him kiss all over her stomach that will soon hold their children and his heirs to the throne. kissing her as his hand grabbed onto her breasts causing her to whine, her hand weaving into the hands of his hair.

soon she couldn’t take his lips away from hers, leaning down to collapse her lips upon his as he, in a hurrying manner, forced shirt and trousers off his body, to lay bare under her.

the two of the kissing and exploring each other as y/n kissing down his lips to his cheek, to his neck and down. her lips finding its way to his toned stomach and pelvis and soon himself.

he watched her in a daze, his eyes glossed. a small whine came from him when she placed her hand on him and picked it up to lick it slowly over the tip. groaning more loudly while she snuck down onto him he let her work while keeping his hands to sooth over her head.

watching her white hair become dismembered while she held her place—‘y/n…wait—ābrazyrys…please, i will cum—i need to be in you, please’ he whimpered as she smiled and pulled herself away.

moving up to him when he placed his hands immediately onto her cheeks, he took her lips onto his, her hand down onto his cock, lining him with her entrance.

gasping excessively, his chest heaving rapidly as he watched from his spot, himself disappearing into her.

moaning, she let herself sink down onto him, her hands on his chest as he grabbed her arm to pull it away and placing his hand into her own for her to tightly grip it.

‘oh gods…’ she gasped while she began to move slowly, him gasping with her as she let her head fall back. he watched her beautiful form fall up and down slowly onto him, his hands letting go of hers to hold her waist, helping her move it.

his hands squeezing the slight pudge of her sides to let the skin look as though it were to spill out of the gaps in his fingers. their sounds of pleasure getting louder and echoing throughout the room.

her eyes closed as she chased her high, jacaerys himself becoming close as he forced himself to keep his eyes open to watch y/n whoes pace sped up on him.

‘i’m coming, i’m—oh gods—‘ she gasped louder and louder as he did the same, thrusting his hips into her and soon the release they were chasing washed over them in a hurry. jacaerys held her as she fell onto his chest, her arms resting under his arms that soon was wrapped around her body. their chests falling and rising rapidly.

after the silence began to become comfort and y/n didn’t want to move from him she smiled sweetly as her finger traced his chest in random patterns.

‘Avy jorrāelan’ she told him softly as he smiled deeply with the blush returning—‘Avy jorrāelan’ he replied while she looked and kissed him deeply.

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days turned into months and the two were almost entangled with each other at any time of the day. rather it been morning or night. they found themselves in a bed or a room, or in a secret place of the tower filled with ecstasy and pleasure.

gaps, moans, whines and climax’s filled the areas they were in. they were rarely caught but they’d been heard.

and not too soon later y/n fell pregnant. she’d been beyond happy when she found her bleeding didn’t show over time and was looked at to see she was with child.

a few months with her stomach swelling she’d found it difficult to fit into any and most of her dresses she had for herself. her stomach filling every one of them.

rhaenyra was very happy and very proud of the two along with daemon and lucerys. they’d see jacaerys and y/n communicate with his hand lingering on her stomach as she smiled up at him.

‘jacaerys, are you stressed?’ she’d asked worryingly as she’d looked at jacaerys who’d been hovering over the smaller image of the town build onto a table.

his arms stretched and his arms pressed onto the table, looking over to see his very full wife, he smiled and walked over to her.

‘no my love, simply looking. how are you feeling?’ he’d asked her over and over again, shaking her head slowly while her hand soothed her belly along with his hand she groaned a bit.

‘i’m okay, just a bit of pain—‘

‘pain? why are you out bed? you should be resting’ he told her with worry as she smiled with a eye roll.

‘i will be fine’ she told him before letting him grab her hand and walk down and out of the room, down the fall. the sharp pain grew as she groaned once more but with more pain filled, jacaerys stopped and turned in a hurry.

‘what? what is it?’ gasping as she felt the warm liquid run down her legs and onto the stone floor, he heard it hit the ground as she groaned.

‘it’s time, jacaerys it’s time.’ she winced out with another groan of pain as he held her jody in his arms—‘it’s time? oh gods—mother! someone! hurry’ his yell echoed throughout the walls as they were met with y/n struggling to keep herself up.

rhaenyra running to their side along with the wet nurses who’d taken y/n from his arms.

‘jacaerys?’ she’d looked around to see if he was near her which he was—‘i am here! i’m here’ he told her as she gasped and groaned.

getting to a room where they could finally begin the both. y/n laying down on the bed as the wet nurses placed her legs up and ready.

y/n looked around in worry as she sweated heavily and tried to breath—‘it’s going to be okay y/n—it’s going to be okay’ her mother comforted while she held her hand with y/n who gripped it.

‘i’m scared, mother’ y/n cried as rhaenyra who sadly soother her hand over y/n’s white hair that was tossed around the pillows—‘princess i need you to push!’ the wet nurse instructed.

doing as told her jacaerys hurried to grab her hand—‘y/n, i am here’ he reassured as she looked at him and focused on getting the baby out and alive.

groaning and screaming loudly in pain as she cried at the same time, she gripped both her husbands and mothers hand.

finally they heard the cries of their baby. catching her breath and smiling deeply—‘it’s a boy princess.’ a wet nurse told her with a smile as she was handed her baby bundled in a white blanket.

holding and crying as she’d faced and came over her deep fear. rhaenyra was beyond proud of her and jacaerys who’s eyes were filled with adore and love for his own new family.

‘she’d got your eyes, y/n and your hair jacaerys’ rhaenyra told the two as her own tear dropped for them. they smiled brightly as y/n’s was still in pain but mostly love.

‘do you wish to hold him?’ y/n asked her jacaerys who smiled widely. grabbing and holding his son, he looked and observed as he saw his face was filled with nothing but his mother.

her eyes, her lips, her cheeks. he soothed his sons black hair gently.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🗡️　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

the two had a total of four kids, two daughters and two sons.

From Eden. Benjicot Blackwood

✧.* masterlist (Part two here)

✧.* pairing: benjicot blackwood x velaryon!oc

✧.* summary: caught in the brewing of war, Daenys Velaryon must forge alliances for her mother's claim to the throne. The Riverlands are paramount and she had the inexplicable luck of meeting Benjicot Blackwood.

✧.* word count: 11k.

✧.* note: this is a whopping long imagine. thank you all for the support on the preview. this is brought to you by instant ramen and my inability to focus on coursework. no beta reader as I live life on the edge (truthfully i do not have any)

A loud clap of thunder followed in succession by the flashing of lightning illuminated the library of Dragonstone. In the late hour of the wolf, Daenys found herself entombed within the walls of parchment, scanning drawn-up battle plans and strategies written by maesters who had nary seen a single battle. The feeling of ever-present stress loomed over her, creeping from the shadows that were not illuminated by scattered candles. That feeling of anxiety - pressing down harshly on her chest - had been a footnote in her life. 

Daenys did not need to be a dragon dreamer, like her namesake, to see the future of her house. War was coming, that much was obvious. She knew at the age of nine that her mother’s claim would be challenged and since then her life had been spent preparing. The intensity of conflict did not matter, Daenys would be prepared regardless. So, like most nights, she had settled herself among the pages of books. Her body, worn from training all day, had relished in the feeling of sitting down in a plush chair. 

The book in her lap, An Analysis of Ground Moves of the First Dornish War, had begun to kill her mood. The maestor who wrote it had no skill of explanation, nor seemed to have care for fighting in general. She cursed his weak analyses on certain moves and more outwardly she cursed the tone in which he wrote when speaking of her Targaryen ancestors - in particular the women. Daenys leaned back in her chair and repressed the urge to chuck to tome across the room. All that access to knowledge and training yet maesters still seemed to fall short. 

The echoes of footsteps sounded between claps of thunder. Daenys glanced up to see her mother. Rhaenyra had her hair down in light waves. The nightclothes she wore were made from black and red fabrics and stitched in the fashion of dragon-influenced style, part of a matching set that the two women shared. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth set in a line. The heir apparent sat down in the chair beside her daughter and glanced at the book in Daenys lap. 

“The hour is late, yet you are out of bed?” 

Daenys’ arms rested on the book, “Sleep could not come.” 

“Or have you run from sleep? Increasingly so, as of late.” Her mother’s observation cut deep. It was true, for Daenys had become antsy. More and more nights were spent reading, and even more days training with the sword. Exhaustion had become her friend and respite her enemy. She felt behind, as her training had only started a few years prior - after years of requesting to learn. Any day a war could break, yet she sat about for most of her life doing nothing but sewing and other pointless tasks to be a good wife.

“Don’t you feel it, mother? That sinking feeling of... something clawing at your feet for that damned throne.” Daenys’ gaze rose to meet Rhaenyra. As her mother's only daughter by birth, they held a certain bond. The ability to understand what one another wished to say without so much as a word. A twitch of the brow, a quiver of the lip, or the tilt of their head was worth more than what any uttered words could convey. Mother and daughter, one unable to live without the other. Like bees and flowers or the moon and sun. A push and pull of exchange. Rhaenyra knew her daughter wanted to help, and it crushed her. She wanted Daenys to live without that fear - to relish in her days as a princess. 

“The burden is not yours to bear alone,” Daenys spoke after a minute of silence. Rhaenyra sported a fleeting smile at her daughter's words. 

“I know, but it does not pain me any less,” Rhaenyra adjusted in her seat, “Is there anything you wish to discuss about it?” 

“We need the Riverlands.” There was not a moment of pause between her mother's question and the answer. “There is loyalty secured in many regions, especially the North, but the Riverlands are important. We do not have a strong enough hold there.” 

Rhaenyra resisted smiling at Daenys eagerness in politics. Had she been born minutes before Jacaerys instead of afterwards, Rhaenyra would have been confident in claiming her as heir. Jacaerys, as dutiful as he could be, was still lagging in comparison to his twin regarding diplomacy. 

“And how do you propose to remedy this?” 

Daenys paused, reluctance flashed across her face for a moment but she pushed it down. “I have to marry.” Rhaenyra tilted her head in a questioning manner but Danys continued, “I know I have been against it, but you need a strong foothold in those lands. Many major battles in history are fought there and if our house is to remain strong, we must command as much of it as possible.” 

“The Tully’s have no available members to marry.” 

“We needn't rely on House Tully. There are other houses there that are sure to have available sons. House Frey, Mooton, Bracken, Mudd, Blackwood, Lothston, and many more. One that is as close to the Tully’s as possible and stocked with a good amount of soldiers.” Daenys’ gaze swept along the darkened room, the bookshelves being illuminated by a small number of candles and the raging storm outside. 

“I want you to be happy-” 

“My happiness is seeing you on that throne. Mother, you deserve it more than any other fat and drunk lord who lives on the continent.” The women giggled, and for a brief moment the storm outside - political and natural - ceased to exist. 

“This is what you want?” Rhaenyra held her breath after she asked. Daenys nodded gently. They once again settled into a silence, their eyes focused on the flames inside the hearth. More thunderous roars from outside continued to assail Dragonstone. “I have some news, of which only a few know.” 

Daenys sat up straighter, intrigued with what her mother had brought up. She marked her spot in the book and placed it on the small table beside her chair. Her body turned to see her mother more clearly. 

“I am with child.” Rhaenyra’s words echoed in the room, “It was just confirmed this morning with the maester.” 

“That’s good news, mother, truly.” Daenys reached out to hold Rhaenyra’s hand. They both smiled, content to last in their bubble.

“I think it's a girl. There is something about this pregnancy that feels different than all the rest.” The heir to the Iron Throne spoke softly, but loud enough to be heard above the raging storm. 

“Good. We’ve been dreadfully lacking women in the family. We are outnumbered.” Daenys looked back at her book, the title of the First Dornish War embossed into the leather binding, “Visenya.” 

Rhaenyra looked at her quizzically, and Daenys continued, “You should name her Visenya.” 

Her mother smiled gently and nodded, “I shall take that to heart. Now,” She got out of her seat, “Get to bed, ñuha prūmia.” Rhaenyra gave Daenys a gentle kiss on her forehead before walking away and out of the library. 

Daenys stayed in her seat, gazing mindlessly into the fireplace. Her heart was heavy. The prospect of marriage never worried her much. Any suitor that wished to court her quickly ran upon seeing her stepfather Daemon, who always seemed to grip Dark Sister tightly when they approached - a signal of warning. She never had to worry about ending up with a foul lord, or even end up marrying any time soon. Yet, her allegiance to her mother was stronger than any distaste for being wed. She got up and blew out some of the candles around her. 

She made her way across the library, down the many winding halls of Dragonstone, and into her bedchamber. Once settled at her vanity, she put her hair in a simple braid to protect it while she slept. Turning towards her bed, she spotted her sword resting against the chest placed at its foot. She walked over and unsheathed the steel. It was not Valyrian steel, unfortunately. But, the piece was expertly crafted at the behest of Daemon. Her hand gripped the hilt and the other gently traced the centre of the blade. 

Daenys swore that she would not make the task of gaining her hand easy for the Riverland lords. If her mother were to gain an ally, he would need to prove his worth. She had built up a reputation over the years. A beauty, that much is true, and the ability to charm members of the court easily, despite what some gossip about her parentage may say. However, upon being taught to fight by Daemon, she had managed to also build up a reputation for sharp wit and even sharper fighting skills. 

Exhaustion had finally caught up to her, so she moved to put the sword away and crawl into bed. Once settled, Daenys fell into a world of dreams. 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

Daenys wished, with all her heart, that she could go back in time and club herself over the head for even suggesting a search for a husband in the Riverlands. The conversation with her mother two weeks ago quickly led to plans being laid. Daenys, on the back of her dragon Suneater, and her brother Jacaerys on the back of Vermax, had arrived at Riverrun to be greeted by Lord Elmo Tully. A kind old man, with dark red hair, streaked with the white of age. Daenys did not wish for her brother to accompany her, but Rhaenyra was adamant that she have a member of the family there to make sure she was not completely alone. Rhaenyra also added that it would help Jace’s claim to the throne more if he met and treated the lords of the Riverlands. 

However, the trip to the Riverlands quickly became sour. On the third day there after settling in, the petitions began. She was only a few hours in, and Daenys had already grown frightfully bored by the endless men - young and very much old - that made their case. Lord of this castle or that holdfast, it did not matter. All the men started to blend into one, with a few that managed to stand out. She sat on a raised dias in the grand hall of Riverrun, with Lord Tully to her right and Jace to her left. Occasionally, after a particularly awkward or gross petition, Jace and Daenys would glance at one another in complete awe. Daenys had underestimated the audacity of some men and now she finally understood why Rhaenyra had so many wild stories of overzealous lords making their petitions to her. At first, her stories seemed too odd to be fully real, but now in Daenys’ own few hours of experience, there was no doubt left in her. 

She leaned back and stifled a yawn as the old man in front of her droned on about his experience in some battle long ago. Lord Tully saw the princess's mood and leaned forward, “Thank you, Lord Ryger, for your attendance. It appears we shall end the petitions for the day and continue on the morrow.” 

Daenys resisted letting out a sigh of relief, though the look on Jace’s face showed he was just as relieved as her. Many men in the hall said their proper goodbyes, bowing to them before exiting. 

“Thank you, Lord Tully. It seems that I have many people to consider.” Daenys gave him a flattering smile, hoping that it could mask her previous displays of indifference. 

“That is good,” Lord Tully stood up and bowed to both her and Jace, “I shall you both at the feast tonight.” 

Once gone, Daenys sat up straighter in her seat and turned her torso towards her brother, “There’s to be a feast?” 

“Of course there is.” Jace smiled at the exasperated look on his sister's face. Truly, the whole time he had been rather entertained. A little bored, but ultimately found humour in his sister's expressions throughout the morning of lords' petitions. 

She leaned back in her seat and slid down slightly, sighing loudly. “A whole bloody feast.” Jace began to laugh, but Daenys would have none of it. “Don’t be too quick to humour, brother. All the lords who are already married are bound to have daughters, and as the future heir to the throne, I do believe they will flock to you like flies to shit.” 

“Are you saying I am the shit in your comparison?” The smile on Jace’s face faded. 

“You said it, Jace, not I.” She bounced to her feet and made her way towards the exit. 

Jace called out as she left, “And where are you off to?” 

“To Suneater,” Daenys responded while looking over her shoulder, “Lords cannot follow me into the sky.” She walked away to the sound of her brother's light chuckles. The dress she was wearing had begun to feel heavy on her, the weight of her mission to gain a good husband to aid in any possible future challenges to her mother seemed impossible. From the men she met so far… the outcome was looking bleak. There was one man who was closer to her age, yet every detail about him escaped her. Was it Aken… perhaps Barken… Breaker? The only detail worth noting about him was the garish yellow shade he wore, the rest was all exactly like every other man before. 

Daenys had changed into her riding leathers and gleefully made her way through the halls and to the courtyard. Upon exiting the castle, she glanced around the yard full of many men who were talking and sparring. The bustling laughter continued, with some lords near her choosing to greet her. Daenys pushed off many wishing to start a conversation with the excuse of going to visit her dragon. At the mere mention of her companion, the lords backed off. They are too fearful at the thought of a dragon, why do they think they are fit to marry one?

Glancing around at the fighting people while proceeding through the courtyard, she looked at a group. They were sporting red and black, and a feeling of homesickness washed over her. House Targaryen colours were familiar to her, mixed with Velaryon colours of course - for her father. The hushed voices of her uncles echoed in her mind; Bastard. 

Brushing that thought away, she decided to watch the group. The men dressed in those colours were sparring. A blond struggled against the blows from a dark-haired man, his lean and built form assailing with strength. 

It seemed that whenever the blond one got the upper hand, it only lasted for a short time. Daenys slowed her walking as she passed. While she was many metres away, she could still hear the words of encouragement and jest by the other men around them - dressed in the same colours of black and red. The blond man was facing her, and upon seeing the Princess, got momentarily distracted. The dark-haired man moved quickly, knocking his opponent to the ground in one fell swoop of his legs. The blond crashed to the ground and let out a string of curses, his clothes muddied. 

“Is the ground comfortable, Rickard?” The dark-haired man joked. The men around would have laughed, but their eyes moved to where the blond, Rickard, had his eyes. They all seemed frightened. Daenys could tell they were all around her age and most likely had never seen a member of the Royal family, given the fact that they were frozen on the spot. Rickard got up, albeit in a clumsy manner, and tilted his head down in a subtle bow with the rest of the men following. 

The dark-haired man turned and his eyes met hers. She could not gauge their colour, as she was standing a good few feet away. The grip on his sword slacked. He seemed stunned and a faint red coated his face. Daenys could not tell if it was from his training or her presence. He nodded to her and she hummed gently before nodding back to him and the other men. 

While Daenys was intrigued by those men, all she wanted was a reprieve from the men around her. She turned her body and continued on her previous course, oblivious to the stares that followed. On the other side of a hill - a fair distance from the gates of Riverrun - lay Suneater and Vermax. The two were beside one another, as their personalities blended. Occasionally, the two would clash much like her and Jace, but truly acted as siblings. Daenys felt the weight on her chest that accumulated throughout the day disappear. Finally, she could be free, even just for a while. 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The hours had passed in mere moments. Daenys had begun her flight midday and had landed as the sun began to set, giving her just enough time to get to her chambers and have the maids prepare her for the feast. She was delighted that the courtyard was relatively empty, save for a few servants mulling about. No pesky conversations to derail her. 

However, Daenys heard the sound of grunting and the beating of a sword. She turned to a corner of the yard to see the same dark-haired man still training. The others had left, but he lingered on. His back was to her, but she doubted he would even notice her if he was facing in her direction. He seemed completely enraptured in the swings of his sword, as if the world had disappeared and here he remained. 

Daenys recognized this focus. She too felt that, albeit when riding her dragon. It was a feeling of belonging like there was nothing else meant for her to do. No more masking and pretending to feel like the people around her, just free to get lost in something she loved. The process of becoming a different person and getting lost in the way it makes you feel. She believed it must be a similar thing to the way he was fighting. She paused for a moment to study his form. Strong, but sly. With each stroke of the sword, images of the royal painters appeared in her mind. The art of their brush strokes mirrored that of the steel he swung. Calculated and precise, but free. Each time the steel met the straw dummy, it looked like paint hitting a canvas. 

Daenys did not wish to disturb his focus, but the burning intrigue of who this man was had overpowered that wish, “I do believe he is dead.” The man stopped with a jump and swung his body around in quick succession, his eyes alert. It was only upon seeing Daenys and assessing her as no immediate threat that he let his guard down. 

“Yes, princess, um… indeed.” His response made Daenys almost wish she did not disturb him. It was clear that he appeared slightly shy when not engrossed in combat. A part of her related to it. 

“I apologize for my earlier interruption. It was not my intention to have distracted your friend.” Daenys stepped close and leaned against a fence that connected to the large stables. She was within just a metre or two of the man and could now finally see him more clearly. He was a pleasant sight, exceedingly so compared to the dozens of men she met that morning. 

“You need not apologize, princess. It was his fault, he should have been focusing on the fight.” 

“Well, I hope he is alright from the fall, Lord…” Daenys trailed off, hoping to know his name. She thought back to her morning in the hall and meeting all the lords who contended for her hand. She could not remember him. That could not be right, she would remember a man who looked like that. It seemed that he was not there in the morning, most likely to see her in the days to come. 

“Benjicot Blackwood, your grace.” He nodded at her, his dark hair moved gently in the subtle breeze. 

“It is nice meeting you, Lord Blackwood.” Daenys smiled at him. She felt unusual, to be taken by charm so quickly and with so few words. She searched within her brain for any knowledge regarding the family. It was an old house, with roots deep within Westeros spanning back to the first men. Kings during the Age of Heroes. She remembered reading about their ability to field an army larger than that of House Tully, yet still bent the knee to them. 

“You flatter me, princess, but I am not Lord Blackwood yet. My father still presides over Raventree Hall.” Benjicot’s voice was calm, despite his appearance coming off as slightly nervous. 

“I am sorry, Lord Benjicot, for the misunderstanding.”

Ben broke eye contact and gazed around the courtyard for a moment before returning to her, “We seem to be apologizing repeatedly to one another, your grace.” 

“Yes, let us end that,” Daenys situated herself to sit on the fence, a rather unladylike action. She found that she could get away with that type of behaviour the further she was from the court of Kings Landing and Dragonstone. “What brings a member of House Blackwood to Riverrun at this time?” 

“Well, the crown princess happens to be visiting,” Ben answered. 

“I heard she is spoilt and vain.” Daenys joked.

Ben seemed to loosen up just slightly at her friendliness, “She is not so bad. Rather pleasant if you ask me.” The two stare at one another for a few moments, wondering which one would break the jest first. In a display of synchrony, they both smiled and let out a short burst of laughter. 

Daenys spoke after calming down, “So I am just pleasant, my lord?” 

“Yes, your grace, incredibly so.” Ben’s words sounded more sincere than expected and it caught Daenys slightly off guard. 

“You are not so bad, as well, Lord Benjicot. Incredibly so.” Daenys jumped down from the fence and brushed off her hands that were resting along the wood. “I hope you are not absent from the feast tonight as you were this morning. I should like to speak to you more, my lord.”

“I will be there princess.” 

The two both nodded to one another before Daenys began to walk away. As she retreated, she could not help but feel a little less stressed about the feast. Maybe the idea of being surrounded by boisterous lords, many eager to dance with her, would not be so bad if Benjicot Blackwood was there. 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The band was in full swing. The echoes of their instruments, playing a quick jig, bounced off the vaulted walls of the great hall. People sat at multiple long tables and ate from the vast amounts of plated food. There were others out of their seats, conversing with groups or dancing in the centre of the room. Lord Tully was at the centre of a table position in front of all the others. The Velaryon twins sat on either side of him. Jacaerys and Lord Tully were engaged in deep conversation on a topic Daenys had little care for. She stared at her plate of food. No matter how hard she tried, Daenys could not will herself to eat. The nerves of this night and having countless men stare at her made her stomach ache and turn. 

A figure stood up at the table, bowing to all three of them. He was adorned in brown and a muted yellow colour, with the sigil of a red stallion on his chest. While Daenys did think it ugly, she could not say the same for his appearance. He had a slender figure, and his facial structure was pretty for a man. His brown hair reached just past his shoulders, most of it pulled into a tie at the back with some loose strands. 

“Lord Tully, Prince Jacaerys, Princess Daenys,” He started, “It would be an honour to ask the princess if she should like to dance.” 

“I believe my sister would love to join you,” Jace answered. 

Daenys kept her head facing the man while her eyes turned to the side. Jacaerys was looking at her, an amused smile on his face. She focused back on the man and put on a pleasant smile, “It would be my pleasure.” She slowly got out of her chair, hoping for some miracle to prevent their dance. A fire set in the hall, or perhaps the gods could shake the earth and swallow her whole. 

When the man took hold of her arm to escort her, Daenys turned around and mouthed to her brother: traitor. Jace just waved slightly and picked up a mug of ale. The two made their way to the dance floor and joined many others. Her hands clasped hers as they faced one another and began moving. Daenys had to concentrate on her footwork, as her dancing skills were never the greatest.

“Aeron Bracken, your grace. I am sure you remember me from this morning.”

“Ah yes, how could I forget such a memorable petition… with ah… great accomplishments.” Daenys gave him a fake smile. She hoped that response would satisfy Aeron, as she truthfully had no memory of what his petition was. The words he had said sounded the same as all the rest, so despite not remembering, she could guess that they revolved around their accomplishments and house. 

“It gladens me that you have been thinking about me, your grace.” 

Daenys almost scoffed. Where did she ever mention thinking about him? Why would she think of him of all men? There was a brief flash of red and black in her vision, accompanied by a blur of dark hair. Swallowing her frustration down, she continued her womanly facade. 

“Yes, House Bracken is wonderful in their abilities and longstanding position in history.” The few things she knew about the house were their origins with the first men, and their proclivity to engage in petty disputes with other houses. She thought it best to not bring up the latter information. However, it did not seem that she would not have to bring it up as Aeron began to rant.

“There are some houses here that are not as fortunate or kind as mine. Some that are no good to be around, your grace.” Aeron’s face darkened slightly as his vision zeroed in on a group across the hall. Daenys turned and strained her eyes, for she was not as tall as him. Upon seeing through the crowd who he was looking at, her brows furrowed. Benjicot Blackwood stood conversing with a group of men at one of the tables. 

Aeron looked away and back at the princess, “I caution you with keeping the company of Blackwoods. They can be savage and cruel.” 

A flood of information swooped over her mind. A week prior to leaving for the Riverlands, she had tirelessly scanned through books on their history. She suddenly realized why both of the Houses sounded familiar. Out of the countless battles she read about, House Blackwood and Bracken were frequently are the forefront and more often than not the ones that started those conflicts. 

Daenys felt an odd urge to defend Benjicot, “You do not think I did my research before coming here, Lord Aeron?” 

“No, princess, that was not my intention,” He seemed to stumble over his words and his face flushed, “I just wish to protect you.” 

“I do not need your protection, my lord. I do believe having a dragon does that for me.” Daenys was thankful that the song was coming to a close. They separated and both bowed to one another like all the other partners on the floor. “Your baseless attempt at character assassination is just that, baseless. Thank you for the dance, Lord Aeron, but I think I will take my company elsewhere.”

Daenys gave him one last nod and walked away. She wanted to get away from Aeron quickly. She walked in the direction of Ben and his company of men, but an old lord stepped out in front of her just as she made it to him. The lord was old and greying, his wrinkled skin sagged against his stern face. Daenys never gagged at the sight of a person before, but she found herself almost doing so. 

“Princess Daenys, would you care for a dance?” His shrewd voice shattered her temporary relief. 

“Oh Lord–” She began, but was swiftly interrupted.

“Lord Mooton,” Benjicot had spotted her approaching and saw the lord moving her way and quickly lept to action, “It is good to see you. I believe it was your great grandson's twentieth nameday celebration that we last saw on another. I have heard that your wife was looking for you.” Ben had his shoulders squared and towered over the old man's form. Daenys and Ben exchanged looks, resisting the urge to laugh in the lord's face at this awkward exchange. 

“Oh, yes, Lord Benjicot. Apologies princess, for I must go.” The man bowed and moved away, his old form moving slowly. 

“I owe you, Lord Benjicot, for saving me.” Daenys smiled at him. Her arms joined behind her back as she swayed side to side. 

“You need not thank me, your grace. Though, I would appreciate it if you would do me the favour of joining me on the floor?” Ben held out his hand. While he seemed confident, Daenys could tell there was still a shy nature being hidden - it was clear in his eyes. The hand that was outstretched shook so slightly it was hard to catch, but she did. Just a few minutes ago she wanted nothing more than to stop dancing, but in this case, she did not mind it. She had just found the right partner. 

Daenys took his hand in hers and the shaking ceased, “I shall.” Ben escorted her to the floor and they began to dance. She was even more nervous, as her lack of talent in dance may embarrass her in front of him. Ben did not seem to mind for he guided her gently before she could make any mistakes. 

“You should have seen the look on your face when Lord Mooton spoke to you. Pure befuddlement, your grace, possible disgust as well.” Ben quickly turned her to the pace of the music. 

“Do not jest of that, my lord. I felt like I would die.” Daenys retorted. 

“You would die? I think it would be Lord Mooton that goes first, considering his age.” 

Daenys let out a short laugh, “I do not know what I would have done if I had to suffer a dance with him.” She almost shivered at the thought of that lord's eyes scanning her body in such a predatory way. 

“Do not worry about it, your grace. All it would take is a stiff breeze to knock him over and it would no longer be your problem. Perhaps I could jump out of nowhere and startle him to death for you?” The dance had Ben pulling her closer with both of their hands connected. 

“I did not take you as a man quick to murder.” 

“Ah, but for you, dear princess, I would not hesitate.” Ben’s words sounded incredibly sincere and he made sure to be looking right at her when he said them. 

“You flatter me, my lord,” Daenys said, “I wanted to mention it earlier, but I must compliment your skills in fighting. Watching you train was engaging.” 

Ben spun them around and kept pace with those around them, “I shall hold those words with me for life, your grace.” 

“I also wished to ask if we could spar together.” Daenys raised her brow at him, hoping that he would like the same as well. 

“I can not even think about attacking you, princess. It would be improper.” 

Daenys knew he would not relent so easily, “I have been learning for a few years now, you need not worry about it.”

One of Ben’s hands reached down to her waist as they had to start walking to the right in a circle with others dancing. “Princess, the moment I even go in to swing at you, regardless of practicing, every lord in the castle would hunt me down.” 

“Then we shall make sure nobody sees. After the morning petitions on the morrow, we can meet up outside the gates and find a clearing somewhere.” Daenys tried to distract herself from the way his hand felt on her waist.  

“After you have been driven to frustration by all the lords? I should be worried you may take that anger out on me.” Ben spun her around again. The two of them released their grip on one another, stepping back a few paces and turning before finally coming back together again.

“With the skills I saw today, I do believe you can handle it,” Daenys said.

“I can handle that and more, princess,” Ben responded and his grip on her hand and waist tightened slightly. Daenys blushed heavily and hoped that it would not be too noticeable. She paused momentarily to figure out how to retort, but no words came to her. They settled into silence for a moment. The music died down and the dance came to a close. Daenys and Ben released their hold on each other and took a step back. 

“Thank you for the dance, Lord Benjicot. You need not worry about attending the petitions tomorrow and putting forth your name. I do not need to hear your case as I already favour your company.” Daenys tried to say what she wanted to say without making it too obvious or breaking any rules of propriety. It would be unseemly for a woman to actively pursue someone, but that would not stop her from voicing her opinion. 

“I favour your company as well, princess,” Ben responded, though he seemed slightly stunned. Daenys smiled at him and went back to the main dining table. 

Lord Tully had left, most likely off speaking to some guests, but Jace still sat at the table. He was nursing a mug of ale in his hand and sent her a large grin. 

“What have you done now, dear brother?” 

“Nothing, sister, however, I must admit I did not take you as one who liked to dance.” 

Daenys sat down in the seat beside him. She reached out for some of the ale and swallowed it down. “I don’t like dancing.” 

“Then why did you spend five dances with the same man?” Jace asked. He gave off a tone of innocence to his question, but she could sense the subtle tease.

She paused for a moment to load some food on a plate. It was five dances? She could have sworn it was only for a minute or two. Deciding not to voice that, she continued. “Why did you care to count?” 

“Because you are my sister and it is my job to watch out for you. Tell me, who is he?” 

Daenys was almost reluctant to answer but knew Jace would continue to pry until he got one. “Benjicot Blackwood.” 

“...So?” Jace placed his ale down and showed her his full attention. 

“Pardon?” 

“What do you think of him? You seem quite taken.” Jace nudged her shoulder gently. 

“We met earlier in the day. He seems nice and is easy to converse with. However, the manner of me being taken by him is none of your concern.” 

Jace leaned back in his seat and laughed, “Ah, okay. So it is not my concern that this whole time we have been talking, Lord Benjicot has not stopped looking at you.” 

Daenys froze. Jace held his gaze to her side, where other people were, and must have been looking at Ben. She knew he was there. Now that she was told, she could practically feel Ben’s gaze on the side of her face. She felt herself getting flushed again. That whole night, she felt like she was on the verge of a meltdown with all of the lords looking at her. Their greedy gazes wished to have her solely to claim her blood for their children. Yet, Daenys could not help but crave the gaze of that dark-haired man. She shook her head gently and stood up abruptly. 

“I have become tired, Jace. I shall retire for the night.” Daenys did not wait for her brother's response before she scrambled to get out of the hall. Her feet carried her swiftly out of the large doors and down the stone hallway. She picked up her pace once away from the prying eyes of people. Her hands gripped the skirt of her dress, the palms clammed up.

Upon reaching her guest chamber, Daenys threw the door open before shutting it quickly. Her chest rose up and down with each breath and the bodice felt tighter than it was just minutes ago. Her actions of the day quickly came flooding back at her. This was not supposed to happen. This was never part of the plan. 

Daenys somehow felt like she had failed her mother. She came to the Riverlands to find a strategic match, not find herself relishing in the company of some man. She was no believer. The princess knew from a young age that any sort of marriage was to be one of convenience, one arranged. She felt better having some bit of freedom in choice, but that choice was still dictated by what would be best for securing her mother’s throne if it were to come to war. 

Now, she found herself waiting with bated breath for her sparring session with Ben. As if counting the minutes would make the time go by faster. Logically, House Blackwood would be a great house to align with. They can handle more soldiers than the Tullys despite the Tullys being liege lords of the Riverlands. There is an extensive history of military triumph and a fair amount of wealth - not just monetarily - connected to Raventree Hall. It would be completely fine to connect their two houses, yet her budding feelings for Ben made her feel as though that decision was biased. 

Mother would know what to do. She always does. 

Daenys sat on the end of her bed, gazing out of the opened shutters of a window and staring into the night. The stars looked beautiful, but she missed the familiar sound of waves crashing against the rocky shores of Dragonstone. Homesickness washed over her. She went to the desk in a corner of the room and retired some parchment. The inkwell was full and a quill lay next to it. If there was one person she could vent to and get advice, it would be her mother. 

 ───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The next day, Daenys found herself in the same spot she was in the previous day. In the great hall, with Lord Tully and Jace, watching as dozens of men spoke about themselves. How great their houses are, how great they are, and how extensive their coffers are. Except today felt different than previously. She was more impatient. All she focused on was her meeting with Ben later. The ability to speak to him more freely outside of the prying watch of others. 

To be caught would be scandalous, however, that thought made it more thrilling. 

Once Lord Tully concluded the gathering, Daenys quickly left her chair. She did not run, as it would be unladylike, but she moved as fast as was socially accepted. She went back to her room to dress in the proper attire and retrieve her sword. Once finished, Daenys opened her door and crashed into someone's chest. Jacaerys stood there, barely having been knocked by her slamming into him. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

Danys adjusted her clothing, “Out to train.” 

“Alone?” Jace raised his brow. Although he asked the question, it was as if he already knew the answer. 

“Must I even entertain such a question?” Daaenys sighed. 

“Don’t do anything Mother would not approve,” Jace told her. Daenys resisted the urge to laugh. While Rhaenyra did not speak to her sons about her youth, she spoke to Daenys about it. The stories of her sneaking away with Daemon and later her trysts with Sir Harwin were mentioned in hushed voices over tea times. Gossiping together was one of Daenys’ favourite pastimes. 

“Of course, Jace. I will be as pious as Mother.” Daenys answered before moving down the hallway. She was almost skipping with joy at the prospect of spending the rest of the day with Ben. 

Outside the gates of Riverrun, Ben was leaning against a tree as he waited for her. When she came in sight, she sent him a smile and a slight wave. He got off the tree and walked to her as well. Once close, they began moving in the direction of the dense forest. 

“Are you well rested, your grace? You left the feast early last night.” 

She paused before responding. “If I am entirely honest, I miss my home. I left to write a letter to my mother.” She did not feel it necessary to touch on the fact that the very nature of that letter was primarily centred around him. 

“I am sorry to hear that princess. The Riverlands can be overwhelming for those not born here.” Ben paused to step over a high fallen tree trunk. On the other side, he offered his hand to her. 

“I did not mean it as a slight. I’ve found myself to be quite fond of these lands, my lord. It's beautiful here, truly.” Daenys tried not to think about how warm his hand was in hers. How the callouses were strangely comforting despite their roughness. She gently stepped on and over the trunk before coming back down. Her arm went down to her side, but their hands were still joined. She cleared her throat gently and Ben dropped her hand, coming back from wherever his mind wandered. They continued on their way under the canopy of trees. 

“Can I ask you something?” Daenys questioned. 

“Anything, your grace.” 

“Must we exhaust our title in conversation with one another? It would be much better, and easier if I may add, if you just called me Daenys.” 

Ben remained silent for a moment, his vision focused on the ground below him to not trip over a root. “That would not be appropriate, princess.” 

“At the very least, we can do so when we are alone?” Daenys awaited his answer. 

“Then just call me Ben or Benji. Benjicot can be a mouthful.” 

Daenys giggled, “Sounds good, Ben.” 

They both exchanged quick looks and then focused their attention back on where they were going. After walking for a while, they hit a small clearing. The grass was low and there were no objects around that they could trip on. 

“How much do you know of sparring, Daenys?” Hearing her name come from his voice had her dazed for a moment. It sounded good. 

Deciding to deceive him for a moment, she responded. “Only a little bit. Some basic offensive and defensive moves.” 

“Then we shall have a round to see where you are at. We will start with the wooden swords.” 

With his words, they moved into starting positions. Ben lunged first and his strike was blocked. She moved around him, turning quickly and striking him. He too managed to block it, but before he could make another move, Daenys swung again and hit his bicep. It was quick and unexpected, revealing that she may know more than what she stated. He was shocked for a moment and caught off guard. Ben smiled. He was excited by her quick thinking ability. 

“Were you telling the truth?” 

“Not quite, but the look on your face was worth it.” Daenys adjusted her stance, with the wooden sword still in her grip. 

“Who taught you? Many men seem reluctant to teach women these sorts of things.” 

“I begged for years. I was told it was not ladylike and surely not something a potential husband would accept in a wife. But, many months after my mother married my stepfather, I decided to ask one more time. I was ten and three when I did. I marched right up to Daemon and asked him. It felt inevitable that he would deny my request, but he just laughed and told me to be ready on the morrow in the sparring yard. I joined my brothers in their training.”

Daenys remembered that day vividly. She was scared out of her wits. Until then, she never really bonded much with Daemon and was terrified by his reputation. She had clasped her hands behind her back in an attempt to hide their shaking. Her small frame, made even smaller in his presence, stood tall. Years later, Daenys would be confident in saying that her relationship with her stepfather was solid. 

“As in Prince Daemon?” Ben was bewildered, “Like the Rogue Prince?” 

“Yes, him.” 

Ben shrugged his shoulders, “I doubt you could learn anything from me then.” 

“Are you the one of those men who are ‘reluctant to teach women these sorts of things’?” Daenys used his words against him. 

“There are many things I could teach you.” Daenys pretended not to catch on to the other meaning of his words. She did not even know if that was intended by him. 

The two resumed their stances before going back to fighting. It was amazing how quickly time flew afterwards. Their bodies moved together in tandem. One moved forward, the other moved back. They bumped into one another multiple times. Daenys struggled to keep her beating heart under control when they would brush. It was occasionally hard to focus, as Ben looked increasingly better when he was in his element. She also pretended to not see the somewhat longing gaze he would send her way occasionally. 

During a moment when he was particularly distracted, she used it to her advantage. She swung forward, moving her wooden sword in a circle and disarming him. The move caused her body to be closer to him, and his reflexive move grabbed onto her wrist holding her sword and pulled her close in a grip hold. 

They were exhausted from the hours of movement. Daenys chest moved up and down at a rapid rate. The fog from their breaths intertwined in the air as their faces got close. Her free hand had somehow landed on his chest. There was no denying the lean muscle under his tunic and vest. 

“I thought you did not like it when people got easily distracted?” Daenys teased him. 

“Well, it is hard not to with you here,” Ben responded. His eyes stared into hers, an intensity hidden in them. 

Daenys could not for the sake of her life find a response. It was bold, his compliment. It would not be considered appropriate had they been anywhere else, but they were alone. The realization of that struck her. They were completely alone. Ben leaned in slightly but stopped. Due to their height difference, his nose brushed the top of her cheek. His breath was haggard. 

“Please tell me if I have misinterpreted any of your advances. Tell me and I swear I will leave you alone. I will go back to Raventree Hall and give you peace.” He voiced in a low whisper.

Ben began to pull away, but Daenys used her free hand resting on his chest to grip the fabric and hold him in place. 

“Don't go,” She began, “You have not misinterpreted me.”

“I will not do anything without your permission, my princess.” Daenys did not wish to correct him on addressing her by her title, for the use of the word ‘my’ before it lit something in her chest. He leaned back to where he previously was, his breath fanning her face. She nodded to him before leaning in and connecting their lips. 

It felt feverish, the unbridled heat that surged through her. She had the blood of the dragon, yes, but this was something else entirely. The wooden sword in her other hand, which was held at the wrist by his, dropped to the ground. He moved his hands, one going to her waist to pull her close and the other settling on the small of her back. His lips were chapped but felt soft nonetheless. His nose pressed into her cheek as he deepened the kiss. They both were unskilled in it, and they were slightly out of sink, but the passion was there. Daenys hands moved to his face, cupping it. Her thumbs brushed over his high cheekbones. The kiss gave her more warmth from the mild frigid weather around than any coat she could wear. There was a safety to it, an assurance of protection. 

For a brief moment in this foreign piece of land, Daenys felt at home. 

They pulled away, but only slightly so. Their noses still touched and she was grateful to feel any part of him. His hands squeezed gently, giving her some positive affirmation. 

“You are better at this than your swordsmanship.” Daenys joked. 

“You speak as if you have experience, Dany.” Her heart stopped for a moment at his nickname. 

She breathed in and out slowly, “You’re the first.” Ben nodded at her words, a breathless smile sweeping across his face. 

“For me as well.” They both were stuck in an embrace, eyes staring back at one another. 

“I…” Daenys paused to gain courage, “I would not mind if we could do that again.” She felt terribly shy by her request, and images of her younger self being rejected whenever she asked to learn how to fight flashed in her mind. Ben leaned forward and rested his forehead against her. An amused groan left his lips. 

“You will be the death of me, my princess.” He leaned forward and kissed her again.

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

Daenys sat in her bedchamber with a parchment scroll gripped in her hands. It had been a few days since she sent her letter to her mother and she had finally received a response. The petitions only lasted two days, with the rest being spent mingling among the lords during the day and feasts at night. It was the early hours of the morning and she had just finished bathing. She lounged in her room in a robe and ate from a platter of meats and cheeses to break her fast. 

The letter she had sent her mother had been filled with her worries. How she had met many lords of the Riverlands and some that may be of help. Largely, the contents centred around her blooming companionship with Benjicot Blackwood. Daenys revealed her troubles about feeling that she would be failing if she found herself attached unnecessarily. She felt that her judgement had been compromised by her affinity to Benjicot’s company. She may be overlooking another house that may be better for them come the outbreak of war. 

Rhaenyra’s response was just what she needed. Despite her mother not physically being there, her words soothed Daenys. The heir assured her that House Blackwood would be a good fit, not just strategically but for her happiness as well. She kept reading a section of the response over and over. 

I was never fully happy with your plan. Sending my only daughter off to pick an arrangement that would surely make her miserable. I of all people can relate. Let yourself feel, ñuha prūmia. You are allowed happiness, so pursue it. Many women of the realm would give anything to be in your position. Do not waste it for me and my troubles. 

Daenys sighed. It was the confirmation she had been waiting for. Over the last few days, she had slipped away from Riverrun and joined Benjicot in the woods to spar. Though, more often than not, the sparing would be accompanied by fleeting touches and fevered kisses. Despite the dropping of formalities, he still treated her as his princess. Which, if Daenys was honest, was not a bad thing.

All the time spent with him, the voice in the back of her head had filled her with worries about failing her mother. Now, with confirmation that her choice was not wrong, Daenys felt the urge to rise from her chair and keep running until she found him. Jump in his arms perhaps. But that would not be appropriate and she cursed the realm for their stupid rules. 

Daenys got up and changed into her gown for the day. She had dismissed the maids earlier, wishing to have some semblance of peace. When she was situated in her attire and sat at her vanity to style her hair, a knock sounded on the door. 

“Come in!” Daenys called out gently as her fingers moved to meticulously form a braid. 

Jace walked in. His hand rested on the sword at his hip as he sauntered over to her vanity. “Good morrow, sister.” 

“Good morrow to you,” Daenys pinned up the finished braid and moved to work on another, “What brings you to my chambers this morning? Normally you would be out hunting with one of the lords.” 

“While that is true, I did just have to most interesting conversation while I broke fast,” Jace paused, “With Benjicot Blackwood.” 

Her fingers halted their movement and she looked at him through the large mirror positioned in front of her. Jace was smiling, but it was not the usual smirk as a warning of him teasing her. It looked genuine. She tilted her head in curiosity. 

“And, pray tell, what were you two meeting for?” Daenys feigned a casual attitude. She did not want to reveal her nerves.

“He invited me to break fast together. It would be rude of me to deny him.” Jace answered. 

Daenys pinned another braid up, “You did not answer my question, brother.” 

“I believe it is Ben’s right to share.” 

She finished her hair and turned in her seat to face her brother. She narrowed her eyes at him. Why did Jace address him so informally? Her hands rested on the seat and she resisted the urge to grip them tightly. Daenys was confused and she did not like it one bit. She relaxed her shoulders and maintained a pleasant resting face. 

“I did not know you two were so close.” 

Jace was picking up and inspecting the bottles of oils and serums on her table, displaying a sense of casualty. “Oh yes, one may say we could be brothers.” 

“Enough, Jacaerys. Tell me now.” 

Her brother set a glass vial down and backed away. He continued to smile while going to her door. “I will be out riding for the morning. Have a good day, sister.” Jace then opened the door and left Daenys to sit and mull over their conversation. 

“Bloody halfwit.” Daenys huffed. 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

The princess found herself strolling through the halls of Riverrun. There were no particular activities she planned for the day, so her mind was distracted. It was near an alcove that a hand shot out and grabbed her forearm. She was pulled in with another hand covering her mouth. Her shout of surprise was muffled. Daenys found herself in a secluded area with her back against the stone. There was a tiny window giving the area a hint of morning glow. 

 Fear flooded her veins and she cursed herself for leaving any means of a weapon in her room. She brought her leg up to knee the assailant in the crouch. A shout of pain came from the figure, a voice so familiar. When the man crouched over the ease the pain, the streaks of light from the window illuminated his face.

“Ben! Oh, I am so sorry.” 

Daenys moved to hold his shoulders but he just held up his arms while still in visible pain, “No, Dany, this was my doing. Not the wisest decision to sneak up on you like this.” Benjicot was doing everything to show he was not in pain, but failing. He breathed in deeply. 

“Great strength and good form, my princess.” Ben tried to laugh it off, but his chest still heaved. 

“Dearest, what in the seven hells was that?” Daenys crossed her arms. 

“Oh, if I knew what it would take to be called such a sweet nickname by you, Dany, then I would have injured myself sooner.” Ben beamed at her. He managed to get over the pain quickly and stood straight. His arms moved to wrap around her waist and pull her from the wall towards his chest. 

Daenys arms rested on his shoulders. “What if I had my knife on me?” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’d have been stabbed,” Ben responded. 

“It is not funny. I could have seriously hurt you.” Daenys felt his thumbs making circles as he held her hips. 

Ben kissed the crown of her head, “I have no doubt you would have done serious damage, my princess.” 

They stood in their embrace in the dimly lit alcove. It seemed as though the only time they could spend together was during fleeting moments of isolation. Despite the worry of being caught, Daenys would not wish it to be any different. 

“My brother visited me this morning.” She began speaking, “Jace informed me of your shared meal.” 

Ben’s face dropped. Nervousness etched its way across it. “He told you what we spoke about?” 

“No,” Daenys answered. His unease cleared at her confirmation, “It was rather aggravating, what little information he gave. Is it something I should be worried about?” 

“Nothing to worry about, Dany.” One of his hands lifted to cup her face. He moved his thumb up and down her cheek.

“Can I be privy to it? Or is it some man thing?” Her hands, which were resting on his shoulders, moved lower to settle on his chest.

“No. I planned on making a show of this, but truly I cannot wait any further.” 

Daenys tilted her head, “And what can’t you wait for?” 

“Well, I went to ask your brother first, as I am a gentleman who does not wish to compromise you and-” Ben began, but was swiftly cut off by Daenys.

“You? A gentleman? You may not have compromised my maidenhood, but that thing you did with your tong-”

“My love, please, I cannot be distracted by such a memory.” Ben closed his eyes and breathed in deeply to calm down. “I wished to ask your brother for permission to court you.” 

Daenys waited with bated breath. “And my brother?” 

“He is a very agreeable man. He acquiesced but noted that ultimately, the decision remains with you.” Ben tightened his hold on her. 

She smiled widely, “I believe you already know my answer.” 

The two broke into laughter before quickly leaning in to kiss. They pushed against one another. Desperation, earnestness, and care poured out of them. Most of all, pure relief. Daenys shivered at the intimacy of his hold on her. One of Ben’s hands cradled the back of her head as he pushed them back to the wall, cushioning her from the jagged stone. A groan slipped from his mouth as Daenys opened hers. The kiss was possessive, and his grip tightened. The hold on her waist warmed, and his fingers threaded through her hair. 

“You are so beautiful.” Ben voiced between kisses before moving back to devour her again. His lips trailed from her mouth, across her cheek and to her neck. He stopped at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Daenys sighed at the contact, heat flaming through her body. 

“Ben, someone may come.” 

“Damn them. I do not care.” He seemed intent on kissing her, with his mouth moving to her collarbone. 

“I would rather not have my honour questioned, my love.” 

He paused and lifted his head to look at her. His eyes held an intensity she had scarcely seen from him before, “Say the word and any man who questions you will be dead.” 

“As much as your words are comforting, I could not put you in such a position,” Daenys gave him a chaste kiss, “I am just happy my brother gave his approval.” 

“If you were only there. He did try his best to be intimidating.” Ben said. 

“Jace was never good at threatening people. Were you scared?” She joked. 

“I feigned some bit of fear,” He began, “I find men to be more pliable when they feel better about themselves.” Ben stood proud of himself. He grabbed her hand and lifted it to his mouth to lay small kisses on her knuckles. 

“So you manipulated my bother?” 

“I would not call it that. Moreso gentle encouragement to achieve the answer I so desired.” Ben skirted her question and began to rock them gently side to side, “But even if he did manage to scare me, no amount of fear would stop me.”

Daenys pulled back from his embrace, “No amount of fear would stop you?” 

Ben paused his movements and looked her in the eyes, “I don’t like that look on your face, my dear. You’re up to something.” 

“Well, since you wish to court me, there is one such condition from me.” Daenys tried to ease his piqued curiosity. Ben awaited her explanation. “Meet Suneater.” 

His face fell immediately. His eyes darkened and the muscles in his body tightened. Daenys saw his reaction and worked to soothe him by grabbing his hands and rubbing them. 

His voice came out strained, “You want me to meet your dragon?” 

───── ⋆⋅⋅⋆ ─────

Daenys giggled as she led Ben through the muddy pathway outside of Riverrun. Her dragon and Vermax were perched outside the castle, as it was not a large enough estate to hold the both of them. She held his hand clasped in hers as the two made their way to the sleeping dragon. They came across a clearing that was surrounded by a low stone wall. Jace had taken Vermax for a flight, so Suneater was alone. She lay curled and sleeping peacefully. Her strong breath came out of her nose. 

Suneater had dark grey scales. However, upon closer inspection, there were subtle gold flakes throughout her body, intensifying at the base of the scales before being covered by the black of a next one layered above. Daenys had never known a bond such as the one she held with her dragon. Her closeness to her family was strong- especially Jace since they were twins. But her dragon was entirely something else. 

Now that Benjicot wished to be with her, he must know all of her. Suneater was the other part of her soul. Despite hatching in her cradle and being of the same age, Daenys view her as a daughter. 

Daenys let go of Ben’s hand and walked to her dragon, “Sȳz ñāqes, Suneater.” Good morrow. Suneater’s eyes blinked open and her head lifted to see her rider approaching. Ben had stopped walking and stood by the entrance, unsure of whether or not he should get closer. “Hilago, sagon sȳz. Nyke hae bisa vala.” Please, be good. I like this man.

She reached out to scratch Suneater’s chin. The dragon let out a near purring sound at the contact and closed her eyes. Daenys continued her movements and turned to Ben. 

“Come here. She won’t hurt you.” Upon seeing Ben still standing, Daenys continued. “I swear she will not do anything. You have my word.” 

After that, Ben moved towards her. His steps were slow and calculated as he wadded through the low grass. Once he was about a metre near her, Suneater’s eyes snapped open to stare him down. A puff of air left her nostrils and Ben seized his movements to a halt. 

“Gīda. Rȳbagon.” Calm. Listen. Daenys assured her. Suneater calmed down but kept her eyes on Ben. He was an unknown man who stood too close to her rider. Daenys used her other hand to grab Ben and pull him closer. Once he was beside her, she spoke up, “You can touch her.” 

Ben swerved his head and gave her a look muddled with alarm and uncertainty. He breathed in and out slowly to stay calm next to such an intimidating beast. 

“Touch her?” His voice dripped with fear. 

“Calm down, Ben, its not like I am asking you to fly with me.” He seemed to ease at her words, “Not yet, at least.” 

Ben sputtered but went completely silent when Daenys grabbed his hand and placed it on the dragon's side. Her hand, in its small size, barely covered his. Ben felt the scales and the subtle breathing of the beast. His fear swept away and was replaced with awe. As a boy, he had heard of many older men around him who had seen dragons, but never himself had he ever seen one. The stories in his books growing up were filled with him, the history books even more so when covering events after the Conquest. In all his dreams, never did he think he would be standing so close to one and touching it. 

“See, it is not so bad.” Daenys laughed gently. She grabbed his shoulder and rubbed it gently. 

“Yes. It is not so bad.” Ben was still breathless. 

He removed his hand after a while and, with a surge of confidence, leaned down to kiss Daenys. It was a calm one, not as heated and passionate as the others. His strong arms pulled her against his chest. Daenys melted in his hold and kissed him back. She did not believe she could ever tire from kissing him. Her heart swelled. 

For the first time in many years, Daenys prioritized her own happiness. 

Ben pulled back and looked her in the eyes, “You are a wonder.” Their foreheads connected. The two closed their eyes and relished the sounds of nature around them. The steady breeze brushed the branches of trees and the crows spoke as they flew around. The rumbling of breath from Suneater produced a steady beat to focus on. 

The lovers stood in that field, each far from their homes - one more so than the other - and felt nothing but a sense of belonging. 

A budding love became solidified in their bond that day. Each mirrored the other. Their gentle demeanours were undercut by their cunning in the ways of fighting. Both a ticking bomb of violence, who would gladly follow the other into any battle. 

_______________

✧.* endnote: apologies for any typos or terrible grammar. i did come up with a couple more ideas centred around these two, so if it is wanted i could write (much shorter) pieces about these two. thank you all for the support that has been given. i appreciate it more than you know <3

Eyes of Emerald Green // Vampire!Alys Rivers x Targaryen!Reader

MDNI, DD:DNE(?)

Summary: the woman who once plagued your dream while you were young, reappears.

WARNINGS: slight dubcon, age gap, sexual tension, masturbation, oral (both f), wlw relationship, vampire x human, blood drinking, cunnilingus, blood kink, tiddy sucking, face sitting, canon divergence, breeding kink(?) idk, multiple orgasms. + not proofread

WC: 3.4k

A/N: THE LONG AWAITED FIC LMAO, I've been teasing this since Halloween October 2023 💀💀💀 and now it's finally here 😳❗// divider creds to @cafekitsune

“Spare no man, woman, child or any bastard!” You commanded the guards who were capturing and killing the members of the house strong, this was not your original plan, but after hearing what had happened to king's landing, you vented your frustration on the house you despised the most, house strong.

Recapturing harrenhal was your brother's idea, you simply led the army, yet the city of kings landing was soon attacked, and when you had heard of it, you were stricken with rage.

The sounds of metal clinking, flesh being cut through was like a pleasant lullaby to your ears, you felt a sick sense of accomplishment even though the city had faced a big loss.

You were participating in the massacre too, stabbing the bodies of the members over and over again, covered in their blood, your hair matted as the blood dried up, yet you still did not stop.

But then suddenly you felt a shiver run up your spine and you spun around to see a woman, who appeared to be youthful, standing there in her maids robes, something about her drew you in, and you gasped when you made eye contact.

Emerald green eyes that seemed to piece through your soul, you suddenly felt vulnerable as if she could see through you and you remained frozen in place as you stared at her, you noted how you oddly felt a sense of familiarity with her.

Her eyes reminded you of the woman who appeared in your dreams a few years ago. You remember going to sleep that night and woke up with the feeling of something heavy sitting in your chest and opened your eyes to see the emerald green irises staring at you, you remember not being able to scream, and watched as she bared her fangs before biting down on your neck, you quickly woke up terrified and screamed, the servants immediately rushed in hearing the noise, you had tried telling them what happened and they simply dismissed it as a nightmare.

Those very same eyes were staring at you right now, as you massacred the house she probably served or belonged to.

Yet she did not look scared, but rather a sick expression of relief was on her face, almost as if she was expecting this to happen, as if she knew– that this would happen. You went towards her direction and stopped in front of her, she didn't budge, but merely stared, the blood that had stuck to your armour and hair did not scare her away, but instead, her breathing picked up, almost as if she was sniffing at the stench.

“You– who are you?” You asked and she smiled, “I had expected your arrival, my princess.” she did not answer your question but just stated what she wanted to and you raised an eyebrow, grip tightening on the sword, “And how exactly?” You asked and her eyes drifted to your sword for a moment before she made eye contact with you again, “I saw it in my dreams, my visions.” she replied.

“I hope that in your vision you had also foreseen your death, it would make it less shocking for what I am gonna do to you.” You reply sternly, beginning to shift to a more offensive position, ready to attack her but she just chuckled, “You wouldn't hurt me.” She said confidently and you scoffed, “And how exactly did you come to the conclusion that I would spare you?” You question, “Because princess, nobody knows you as well as I do, after all we've met before.” You just roll your eyes and grab her by the throat, but she doesn't struggle, “You want to be the queen.” the words that leave her mouth makes you halt and you immediately let go of her, eyes wide in shock. “You are but a mere third daughter of King Viserys, much more dutiful than your half sister and your elder brother, you are supporting him for the sake of blood, but deep down, you want the iron throne for yourself, don't you?” She speaks and you remain speechless, wondering how she knows everything. “And your younger brother, is now prince regent, though he was born after you, he was still given preference over you to rule as a regent, even as a kinslayer, he is sitting on the throne in your elder brother's stead. Is that not unfair? Had you not done more than him? Especially being a woman?” You continue to remain silent as she speaks, and how correct she is, “I can help you.” She says and you look at her, “My visions will be of use to you, which is the exact reason you will be sparing me.” She finishes talking and by the end of it, it felt as if you had fallen into her carefully woven trap. You thought about it for a mere moment, you could just kill her and be done with it, fight your own battles, but when has anyone conquered their own selfishness, and just like that, you had accepted her help.

“What is your name?” You asked her and she smiled, “Alys rivers.”

Just like that she was spared.

The news had reached King's Landing, where Aemond was ruling as a regent, he successfully managed to seize the throne back to him and executed all of the black's spies in the city, and regained full control over it.

“Harrenhal has now successfully been recaptured by the princess Y/N, though when she had heard of what happened to the city, she was enraged and directed that anger towards the House Strong, she had successfully eliminated the house, no woman, no bastard, no child was to be spared, except only one was spared, a bastard and a wet nurse called Alys Rivers, it seemed that the princess had taken a liking to her.”

Aemond read the letter of report, eyebrows furrowed, he knew how you would be in anger, impulsive and quick, so he was surprised when he heard that you spared someone, but did not think much of it, he came to the conclusion that though your tastes were different, you deserved to have your own spoil of war, so he did not question anything, and allowed you to be as you are.

Meanwhile, as the days passed, you and alys had gotten closer, she told you everything she saw in her visions and you figured how accurate she was, it seemed as though she was given the sight to see into the future.

You sat in your chair, dipping the quill into the ink before writing it down on the parchment paper, writing down reports of the nearby area, trying to note of any suspicious behaviour to immediately correct until your eye landed on a specific report, “Man found dead at the shore of the God's eye river, there were two bite marks on multiple parts of his body, and his flesh was torn as if though he had been ripped apart by a wild beast.” You furrowed your brows, could this be a result of a beast attack? If so, you have to hunt it down before there are any more victims.

Just then the door opened and you saw Alys, who was now walking towards you, holding a tray of tea cups and, “You had been working since the morrow, I had bought some tea.” she placed it down on the table, and you could help but take note of her attire, a low cut neckline, that almost spilled her breasts outside when she leaned down, you cleared your throat and nodded.

It seemed as if she was trying to do that on purpose.

Things quickly moved, and as months passed by, the blacks had slowly lost the war and the news of Aegon's passing had reached your ear, and though you were sad that you had lost a brother, the line to the iron throne cleared by itself, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

As the situation remained stagnant for a while, you had began your search into the beast that was attacking many people, the victims had increased from when you last heard the report, and what you found odd was how whenever you'd ask Alys for the help in this matter, she would avoid it, or not give proper answers.

And so you decided to confirm your suspicions which were gnawing at your gut as you began to place the pieces together and called her to your chambers in the middle of the night.

Which you should've realised was a bad idea.

“You have summoned me? My princess?” She asked, and you rubbed your thighs together, trying to ignore the sense of arousal that was beginning to drip from you whenever you would see her, “Hm? Yes, I wanted to ask you something.” You thickened your voice.

“I have noticed your behaviour whenever I would bring up the beast attackings, you know something don't you?” You question and she remains silent, “No answer, hm.”

“Alys,, do you know a few years ago, I dreamt of a woman with eyes just like yours? Resembling emerald stones, and she was on top of me and bit down into me” you began to tell her randomly and you noticed how her expression changed slightly.

Right on the target.

“And I remember you saying that you had known me, though I thought it was because of your visions, I soon began to put everything together.” You continued.

“You are the beast in question right? The one that sucks blood for living?” You accuse and she swallows thickly, “Do not lie to me, Alys.” You command and she sighs before quickly accepting the accusation. “Yes, it is me, what am I meant to do? It is the only way I can feed myself, normal food makes me want to vomit.” Her tone changes.

“Why not animal blood?” You question and she rolls her eyes, “It isn't as tasty.” she simply says and you are in disbelief, “If you wanna drink from humans, at least don't kill them, do you not have witchful powers? Why not erase their memory?” You suggest, trying to help her out because you did not want to resort to killing immediately, after all, she did help you in a lot of things.

“If I was capable then I would've done it, there is no other way, and it seems I'd have to kill you too now, I cannot let my secret get out, what a shame, I liked you.” She says and comes closer to you, “Why would I tell anyone?” You question and she stops, confused. “It isn't beneficial to me with you gone, I just wanted you to stop killing that's all.” You tell her and she smirks, “So you're not going to be telling anyone?” she asks and you nod, “It would mean loss for me.” You tell her and she bursts out laughing and you stare at her confused.

“My lady, I knew you were always so interesting and unique, but this was far behind my expectations.” She says and comes closer to you, you take a few steps back before the back of your knees hit your bed, causing you to stumble and sit on it.

You stare at Alys as she looks at you from above and you felt as if your bad dream was coming true, her hands trail towards your neck and to the back of your head before she yanks your head backwards by your hair, exposing your neck. You breath heavily as you stare at her and she slowly bares her fags before biting down onto your neck and you gasp, gripping her shoulders, trying to push her away.

She sucks on your blood for a bit before pulling away and you stare at her wide eyed, her fangs now completely out as your blood drips from the side of her mouth. Her pupils look dilated, she wipes away the blood from the back of her hand and pushes you onto the bed completely.

“Alys– I command you to–”

“Hush princess, we both know that you want this. You think I haven't noticed the way you squirm in my presence? Your skirts don't do a good job at hiding the way you rub your thighs.” She shushes you, you stare at her bewildered. She places one knee onto the bed before slowly climbing it, you try to scurry back but she pulls you by your thigh and yanks you closer towards her, now she is face to face with you. Her arms placed on either side of you, trapping you in between her as she leaned further in before she captured your lips with her own.

Heat bloomed through your cheeks as she kissed you, she swiped her tongue on your bottom lip asking for entrance to which you allowed her, she wasted no time before pushing her tongue inside your mouth, intertwining it with your own.

You cringed at the metallic taste of your blood from before, but you didn't pull away and began kissing her back, she moaned into the kiss when she felt you reciprocating her actions, she pulled away and took deep breaths.

“You're so fucking pretty princess.” She kissed your cheek before trailing downwards to your neck and licked the spot which she had bit before and pressed a kiss to it, before going further down and pressing a kiss to your collarbone.

“I know what you want, princess.” She undid the front lace of your gown and slowly pushed it down your shoulders, her eyes darkened as more of your body was revealed to her, she licked her lips at the sight of your breasts as she pulled your gown further down. You lifted your hips and helped her pull it off from you completely.

“Or should I say, My Queen?” You freeze at those words and you immediately stare at her face in shock, “That's treason.” You retort but she smirks, she caresses your cheek with her thumb before she brings it to your lips, pressing gently. “What's treason is your thought of usurping your own brother.” You gulp as she reveals what she knew and you remain silent, not denying it or agreeing with it. She tilts your head upwards before pressing her lips to yours once again.

The kiss gets heated once again, you tug at her gown, indicating that you want her to take it off but she pulls away and pushes your hand away gently, “Uh uh.” she says, denying you. You furrow your brows and are about to say something but you aren't able to get anything out when you feel her cup your cunt.

You watch her shift, travelling downwards your body and stare as she forces your legs wide open. Your heart begins to speed up, anticipation killing you while you observe her.

She presses a kiss to your inner thigh and without a warning, her mouth is latched on to your count which causes you to fall backwards in pleasure. She wastes no time and makes swift strokes with her tongue against your clit, you moan and whimper at her abuse to your cunt, your hand flies to grip her hair when you feel her bite you slightly, you push your hips forward while holding down her face to your cunt. Her arms around your thighs and she slightly lips your hips off the mattress.

Her tongue prods at your entrance and your eyes widen you feel her push it inside you, her nose nuzzling against your clit, she begins to bob her head in and out, fucking you with her tongue. She licks one long stripe up your cunt and latches herself onto your clit again and suckles on it.

This causes heat to bloom in your lower abdomen, making you gasp her name as you feel every inch of your body twitch in pleasure as your high hits you. You ride your orgasm out on her face and she slowly pulls away. Her lips were coated with your essence and she licks it all up, which further arouses you.

You watch through hooded eyes as she kisses up your stomach and stops in between your breasts, she presses a small kiss to the flesh of teat, and soon she's suckling on your nipple like a babe while staring at you.

You could do nothing but just observe, too caught up in the pleasure, you caress her hair which causes her to smirk as she lets go of your breast with a wet pop. She quickly bites down on the flesh of your breast, sinking her fangs in and sucking the blood out.

You grunt in pain but couldn't help but enjoy the slight pleasure you're getting from it. It feels comparable to when you scratch an itch. You breath heavily and you begin to feel light headed as your body finally registering the loss of blood you're experiencing, you slowly begin to lose consciousness but you are pulled away from it with a harsh slap to your cheek, making you come back to your senses as the adrenaline rushes to your brain.

You noticed that she was no longer drinking blood, but was removing her garments, undoing her clothes until she's bare just like you. Your eyes widened at the sight of her body, her pale body seemed to glow on its own.

You try to get up to feel her body but she pushes you down and shifts positions to where she's hovering above your face, you lick your lips staring at her cunt. She holds your head by your forehead before slowly descending down onto your mouth and you immediately welcome her clasping onto her.

She gasps as you work your tongue against her cunt, “Good girl.” She praises you and you clench your thighs at the praise, aroused by it. It doesn't go unnoticed by her as she chuckles.

“Who knew that the future queen gets aroused at merely being called a good girl?” She ponders mockingly and you freeze at what she had revealed. “Why did you stop?” She begins grinding herself against your face. “Is it because I had revealed that you'd be the future queen?” She asks and you wrap your arms around her thighs as a way to say yes.

“Hmm.. Yes, I'll only reveal more if you put your tongue to work.”

You did not need to hear more and you immediately began putting your tongue to work, flicking it up and down against her clit before sucking on it, the act is making you aroused yourself so you unwrap one of your hands from her thigh and take it down to your cunt, rubbing on the clitoris.

“I've seen it in my dreams.” She begins, slowly humping against your face, “You, donning the conqueror's crown, seated on the iron throne.” you imagined it and that only got you more aroused, you pushed a finger inside your cunt and began to pump it, in and out.

Alys whimpered when you clamped down on her clit, desperately sucking on it. “Yours will be the song of ice and fire.” She tells you and your eyes widen, at the very same moment she reaches her peak and finishes with a loud moan, you peak simultaneously as well.

She rides out her peak but all you can think about was what she had revealed, you felt elevated, combined with everything, you felt as though you were floating.

You watch as she gets off your face and sits next to you, you still lay there, processing and imagining it, “Will you be by my side?” You ask her, before slowing getting up, hair dishevelled as her juices coated your chin.

“Of course, who would father your children then?” Her words make you furrow your brows, “How? We're both women? that sounds illogical.” You try to reason and she smirks, “Do not fret about these things, I have my ways to do it.” She tells you and you nod, brushing it off.

You've seen many things that didn't make sense, having a child with her may as well be possible.

You knew whatever Alys had said would come true, and they did all come true, though it cost your brother's life, you did not feel an ounce of guilt as you slayed him with your own hands, deeming you a kinslayer, though the curse did not matter to you, cause you would be the ruler of the seven kingdoms for ages to come.

— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

Burning Love

Request: Yes or No

Summary: As the eldest son and heir to the Iron Throne, Prince (Y/N) Targaryen has many responsibilities; most of which his darling sister hopes to share with him one day.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Targcest/Incest (Full-blooded Brother-Sister), Aemma lives!! and Alicent is not a childbride, mentions of stillbirths and miscarriages (Aemma's pregnancies)

Collecting HOTD oneshots like pokemon cards at this point

~~~

It was known that Targaryens had... questionable traditions. Traditions those with outsider perspective could only force themself to understand.

There was the act of putting a dragon egg in the cradle of a babe and hoping the egg would hatch sometime soon after to ensure the babe was bonded to a loyal protector they'd grow up alongside of; a tradition started by Rhaena Targaryen, eldest daughter of King Aenys I and Queen Alyssa Velaryon. Targaryens were Dragonriders, bonded with the very beasts they used to conquer the lands and pull them all into one kingdom (with the exception of Dorne, of course). They cremated their dead, a custom from Old Valyria, often with the help of a dragon belonging to their closest kin. 

And of course, the most infamous and often looked down upon custom, wedding kin to kin. Another custom from Old Valyria that many followers of the Seven turned their cheek upon, for they found the act of wedding siblings to siblings and so forth (apart from cousin to cousin) a sin. Faithful followers could voice their complaints as much as they wished, but Targaryens were kings, queens, princes, and princesses. Nobody could or would stop them from keeping their bloodline pure if they so wished. 

Descending from a long, historic, and proud family, Rhaenyra grew up listening and learning the tales of those who'd come before her. Aegon the Conquer and his faithful sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya; the many rebellions and fighting brought on during the lives of King Aenys I and King Maegor the Cruel; The Old King Jaehaerys who'd chosen her father, Viserys, as heir over his own late heir's daughter, Rhaenys; and of course, the histories written during the early stages of her father's reign. 

Her beloved older brother had been two when King Jaehaerys named their father heir and three when their father ascended the throne whilst their beautiful mother, Aemma Arryn, carried her in the womb. The fourth person to ever hold little Rhaenyra in their arms had been her brother, closely supervised by their parents and the maester attending the birth, of course. With a healthy son and daughter, Viserys and Aemma hardly needed for more children, but they tried anyway. Their attempts never carried to term, however, and any little ones that did were either stillborn or died mere hours or days after birth. 

Still, Rhaenyra never needed for any more siblings. Her brother was enough, in her humble opinion. He cared for her diligently, especially during their younger years when he eagerly wished to play with her, even if it meant the two of them being gently scolded at the end of the day for dirting Rhaenyra's dresses with mud and dirt. (Y/N) treated her as his equal, even showing her how to use a wooden sword when he began his training and helping prepare her for dragon-riding on Syrax. His own mount hardly needed much training in the Dragonpit, for the mighty Vermithor's first rider had been the Old King.

As time passed, the siblings were forced apart more often than Rhaenyra enjoyed. She'd made up her mind long ago that she and (Y/N) would one day be wed, and she'd be his formidable sister-wife. Their parents merely chuckled about it when she'd first told them at the age of seven, her squeaky voice and flushed cheeks only drawing cooing from Aemma and sweet smiles from Viserys. The absence of her brother had been stark, his time taken up by training, studying, and spending time with the Small Council, but Alicent Hightower had quickly taken his spot as Rhaenyra's companion. 

However, in due time, (Y/N) became man-grown, and while Rhaenyra quickly followed with her flowering, as heir and prince, (Y/N) became the most eligible bachelor in all of Westeros. It took time for it to become apparent to Rhaenyra but her eyes and ears opened when she heard their parents speaking of it. Many families, highborn and lowborn, offered their daughters through letters or visits to Kings Landing. Lannisters, Baratheons, Starks, Brackens, Blackwoods, Tullys, and plenty more came forth. Even Otto Hightower made a passing comment about wedding Alicent to him. It was infuriating.

"In truth, I do not understand your irritation, Rhaenyra," Alicent spoke gently, her slender fingers working on embroidery. A flower she'd seen in the gardens, or something along those lines. Rhaenyra hadn't truly been paying attention to her dear friend. She'd been too focused on silently fuming at the sight of her brother showing one of the highborn ladies around the Red Keep. Every giggle, every blush, every bat of her eyelashes made Rhaenyra tick. "It's wonderful to watch one's brother fall in love."

"You wouldn't understand, Alicent." Rhaenyra sighed. "It is like the love King Jaeherys and the Good Queen Alysanne had."

Alicent faltered at her words, her head lifting to eye her friend with a small grimace. "You do remember our lessons, correct? King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne had to wed in secret, for they knew that not even their mother approved in fear of another uprising from the Faith. Nobody has made a fuss over your parents since they are cousins, but who knows what may happen if you wed (Y/N)."

"(Y/N) is everything King Jaehaerys was, Alicent. He is beloved by the Realm." Rhaenyra reminded her friend with a small smile, pushing herself off the cushioned seats and smoothing her hands over the front of her dress. Her earrings swung slightly when she tilted her head slightly to the side, the ends of them brushing against her shoulders. Her eyes tracked (Y/N) as he lifted the lady's hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles before departing. "He will be a good king, and if I could prove it, I would be a good queen. His queen." Her feet began moving automatically. 

"Rhaenyra," The name tumbled out of Alicent's mouth, her hands fumbling with the items in hand. "Where are you going?"

Bunching up the skirt of her dress in her hands, Rhaenyra grinned over her shoulder and chuckled at the concerned look on Alicent's features that only grew at the sight of her mischievous glint. "To speak with my brother!" 

With a goal in mind, Rhaenyra entered the castle and followed the distant figure of her brother as he cut down hallways with long strides until he reached his bedchambers. Rhaenyra took a moment to herself to catch her breath and rake her fingers through her long silver locks before she approached the doors and nodded for the guards to open them. She stepped inside, a smile appearing across her lips when (Y/N) turned to look at her. 

"My favorite sister," (Y/N) cooed, taking a seat at his desk and unrolling a letter. Rhaenyra rolled her eyes in return, clasping her hands together behind her back and taking small steps toward him. He skimmed the contents of the letter, his face giving away nothing of what it spoke of. "Is there something you require, Nyra, or are you suffering from boredom? I have plenty of lords and ladies who'd be happy to keep you busy." 

Rhaenyra scoffed quietly and (Y/N) gave a small grin. "I hear Father is urging you to find a wife."

"The Small Council is urging him to urge me, more like. They believe it is time to begin having children. Seeing as Father and Mother had great difficulty, they wish for me to have an heir by the time I ascend the throne to ensure there won't be issues later on." (Y/N) explained, coiling the letter back up and pulling out a blank paper. He dipped his quill in ink and began writing. "Otto has been... more friendly as of recently. He speaks incredibly highly of Lady Alicent." 

"You'd tell me if you were interested in someone, wouldn't you?" Rhaenyra reached over the desk to pluck the quill from his fingers, setting it aside and raising her brows at him. (Y/N) slumped back in his seat and laced his fingers over his midsection, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes. Rhaenyra rounded the table and without thinking twice, she plopped down on his thigh. 

"Nyra,"

"You know as well as I do who you should wed, (Y/N). I know what a good queen should be, and I do not care about status or riches like the families of those ladies do. We have the blood of the dragon in our veins. Nobody would truly understand us." Rhaenyra spoke softly, her bottom lip slightly jutting out as she placed her palm over his cheek. His own hands unlaced, one moving to press against her back. 

"The Small Council-"

"Fuck the Small Council." Rhaenyra huffed, earning a quiet chuckle from her brother. "You are the prince, the heir. Whatever it is you choose, they must deal with it. It is their job to counsel, to offer their advice and opinions, not to dictate what you do. We could mount Syrax and Vermithor and fly elsewhere to wed in the customs of Old Valyria." 

A gentle sigh escaped (Y/N), and he leaned forward to press a delicate kiss to Rhaenyra's shoulder. The princess relaxed at the action, her hand moving past his cheek to the back of his head. (Y/N)'s lips curled up. "You are insufferable." He told her with a gentle laugh before leaning in to press their mouths together. He drew back too quickly for Rhaenyra's liking. "But a good ruler is a patient one, Nyra. If you wish for us to wed, or to lay together-" He brushed their lips together teasingly. "-you must wait. Father and Mother will be easy to convince." 

"Does it matter if we wait?" Rhaenyra tilted her head and batted her lashes coyly, the feigned innocence prompting (Y/N) to roll his eyes. She rose from his lap and dropped her hands to his, tugging on them until he stood up from the chair. She smiled widely, devilishly even, and slung her arms around his shoulders. "We will be wed, regardless. It will not matter." 

"I have things I must do, Nyra." (Y/N) gave a heavy sigh and shrugged his shoulders, his hands coming to rest on her waist. "As I said, you must be patient. If you wish to speed things along, you should speak with Mother. She'll always be the key to winning Father over." He told her and planted a kiss on her temple before settling back down on the chair. 

"Will we be like that someday?" Rhaenyra asked softly, stepping out of the way so he could resume his letter. She toyed with the rings along her fingers, the thought of becoming one of those couples who genuinely cared for each other bringing a smile to herself. It was a desire all ladies had. While sons could marry whichever woman of age they desired, ladies had to hope the husbands their fathers or elder brothers chose were good men. She'd seen far too many times the faces of girls her age married and chained to men old enough to be their grandfathers. 

(Y/N) paused his writing and lifted his head to look at her, offering a reassuring smile. "Someday." He nodded. 

"I look forward to it, then."

The ballad of the raven and the dragon

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!!! PLEASE KIERAN BURTON ONE CHANCE JUST ONE!!!!!!!!

Anyway, Benjicot ("Davos") Blackwood x targ!princess!reader

Summary: Being the only daughter of queen Rhaenrya and the heir to the throne is not easy, after convincing your mother to let you patrol near the riverlands you come across a battle where you meet the infamous Bloody Ben.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, smut, burning brackens, making out, dry humping, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), wine play, vaginal sex.

AN: Originally wanted to do Bracken reader x Benjicot Blackwood but had already seen quite a lot of those so wanted to do something different, buuuttt maybe I'll do one in the future!

It was another grey and windy morning at Dragon Stone. The sea waves crashing against the cliffs, dragons roaring in the sky. War was brewing and so was the tension at Dragon Stone. Being heir to the iron throne was heavier than you thought, the meetings with the black council were getting more dreadful and your mother, the queen, more protective of you and your brothers by the day. Ever since Ser Arryks intrusion she had more guards on watch and you were rarely allowed to leave, especially because you are the queen's only daughter and heir. 

However this morning after begging her to let you patrol the lands, she finally gave in, only for a short while. So your handmaiden quickly helped you change and put your hair up for the flight. Practically running towards the cave, you could barely pace yourself to get to your dragon. She was big for her age and almost as fierce as Caraxes. After getting on her, she felt your excitement and quickly flew out. After a while of flying around Dragon Stone you decided to go a bit further, near the riverlands. 

When you were getting closer high in the sky, you spotted some people near cow fields and a mill, so to take a closer look you descended down enough so you could see them better. Just to check if you didn’t come across the greens knights. Now being lower you could hear some yelling, and then their clothes became more apparent. Around four or so in yellow and brown and the other 4 in black and red, which in the riverlands only meant one thing. Brackens and Blackwoods. However they did not seem to notice you, too caught up in the argument. You were debating on landing out of curiosity but quickly made your decision when swords were drawn and a fight broke out. 

Then you noticed that more Brackens turned up, you knew they declared for Aegon and even though your mother told you not to engage, you never turned away from a fight. You quickly descended with your dragon and she let out a shrieking roar. The faces of the men looked up but there was no time for the Brackens to run as you commanded, “Dracarys!”. Your dragon incinerated a good half of the brackens, the other now starting to run. You quickly turned the two of you around to get on their heels and burn the remaining of them. Your body filled with adrenaline and you dragon roaring with triumph and excitement herself you heard the victorious chants of the Blackwood men down below. 

So deciding to officially meet your allies you landed near them, seemingly their commander already heading towards you. As you stood on the ground you met him halfway and could barely hold in your smile at the sight of him. Never had you seen someone as fierce, unique and handsome looking as him. “My princess, thank the gods for you and your dragon. You saved us many men.” He greeted you with a grin. “It was my pleasure, any green I see I’ll turn black.” He laughed at that, took a step closer and gave you a soft bow with his head. 

“However exciting I find to burn my enemies, this was still unnecessary my lord. I don’t remember my mother giving out orders to kill Brackens.” You lectured, your tone a bit more serious now. Even though it was thrilling, your mother would surely hear of this and get upset. “I understand your grace but those cunts deserve death, anyone who stands with the usurper does.” The fearsome lord gritted out. “But I do apologise, I meant no offence to her grace the queen…or the beautiful princess.” He said that last part softer and with a smile. 

You felt like a little girl again, blushing at his words. “I know you didn't, my lord.” He smiled again and you felt your skin heat up beneath your clothes, there was just something about him...a certain mischief. “Raventree Hall is not too far your grace, I would like to offer you some wine and food for your troubles.” He petitioned. “It was no trouble my lord but I’ll take that offer. I assume you’re on horseback?” You smiled. “Yes your grace, you could ride with me if it pleases you.” He offered. “Have you ever flown on a dragon my lord?” The words left your lips before you could even think about them. The lord of house Blackwood made you say and do things you never thought you would for a man. 

“I haven’t your grace, what are you suggesting?” He looked at you with a mix of curiosity and nervousness on his face. “Fly with me, it’s faster and more fun.” Your words surprised him and he seemed to debate on whether he should. But Benjicot Blackwood was a brave man and at this moment he would do anything to please the princess, even risking his life on a dragon's back. His men cheered behind him and one of them even pushed him in your direction. “Even if I didn’t want to, it looks like I have no choice.” He chuckled. 

“Well let’s go then.” You walked over to your dragon who didn’t seem to love the idea but always did as you commanded anyway. When you were seated, you asked your dragon to lower herself a bit for Lord Blackwood “Ivestragī zirȳla va.” and she did, almost with a grunt.  He climbed on behind you in the saddle as you scootched a bit forward to make room for the tall man. “Ready?” You asked him, grabbing the reins, his men moving out of the way before you. “I think so.” He said, holding on to your waist, which totally didn’t make your heart skip a beat. “Sōvēs.” The second the word left your lips, your dragon started to move, taking some steps before rising into the sky, wings flapping. You could hear the men below you gasp and cheer and felt the lord's hands holding on tighter to your waist. 

After some time of soaring through the skies, Raventree Hall finally came into view. With a loud thump your dragon landed on the ground and you showed lord Blackwood on how to get off, after he got off as well he grinned and led you to the gates of Raventree Hall, the tall weirwood tree looming not too far away. Following Lord Blackwood through his home you were greeted by the guards and servants roaming the place, all with a polite bow or curtsy and a soft “your grace” or “princess”. When you arrived in the big dining hall, it was empty except for you two and some guards. 

Sitting opposite to each other at the table he had a servant fetch some wine, bread, cheese and fruits. “Do you have a favourite fruit or cheese princess?” He asked while removing his gloves. “I wouldn’t want your servants to go out of their way, really anything is fine.” You smiled, cautiously observing his handsome face and veiny hands. He still had some blood on his face, which somehow made him even more alluring. When the food and wine arrived he sent the few guards and servants away and poured you some wine himself. “Thank you my lord.” You said politely, hands in your lap as you watched his tall figure looming over you behind your seat, putting the goblet in front of you. Pouring himself some too he sat back down.

“My princess you needn't call me ‘my lord’, please call me Ben.” His request surprised you but you gave him a smile and nod nonetheless. “Alright... I will.” He took a sip of his wine and looked at you shamelessly. Normally you hated men looking at you like that, but him doing it- made you hot and flushed. “I know it has been a year already but I still wanted to say how sorry I was to hear of your father. I didn’t know him well but I knew he was fierce on the battlefield.” You spoke softly. “Thank you, I must admit that seeing those Brackens today triggered some grief I still had left.” He looked down as he spoke. “I’m so sorry, I know how it feels to have your father taken by the stranger. It will get better, if there is anything I can do for you.” 

He looked at you with kind eyes. “You are too kind, and quite fierce on the battlefield yourself.” He complimented you, now with his mischievous smile back on his face. “Thank you.” You glanced around the empty room before you spoke again. “Do you- have a wife?” You almost stumbled over your words, the question wasn’t disgraceful... but how it was perceived could be. “No, the war and finding my place as new lord of Raventree Hall have kept me busy. It gives me space to...explore and experience, I guess.” He said looking at you once again- did he just look at your chest? “I see. A man is lucky enough to do that, many even continue to explore and experience well into marriage.” You said with a certain jealousy behind it. You seemed to both understand the meaning behind your words, the impure meaning. 

The winds blowing through the cold Raventree Hall made the room cool your heated conversation down a bit but your want for him couldn’t be blown away. Your eyes met each other and you couldn’t help but notice a certain change in demeanour from him. “Have you had the opportunity to explore or experience much in life yet princess?” The way he said the words, low and almost raspy, made your breath catch in your throat. “No.” You said soft and meek. He paused before he dared speak his next words. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like…” His tone was still low and soft. “Yes-” You answered quickly, you wanted nothing more than his touch. 

Before you could protest he rose from his seat, walked to the hall doors and opened them. You thought you had perhaps scared him off but then you heard him speak to the guards outside the door. “The princess has a delicate matter to discuss with me, so take your leave for the night. Make sure no servants pass here.” You could hear a hushed ‘yes my lord’ and footsteps leaving as he closed the doors again. On instinct you stood up and he walked over to you. Looking at each other's eyes and lips once more he surged forward and crashed his lips against yours. His strong grip on your waist and lips moving against yours made a soft moan escape your lips. He moved you tighter against him and your arms were holding on to his back.

His veiny hands moving down to your ass and gripping it tightly caused your clothed pussy and his hardening cock to grind on each other making him groan against your lips. Pausing the kiss for a moment you begged him to do it again. “I have a better idea.” He mumbled against your lips, giving you a chaste kiss as he moved you towards the table. With your ass now touching the edge of the table his hands moved to knead your breasts before lifting you up on the table and standing between your legs. He held onto you before kissing you again, your own hands moving to his dark hair. 

Bringing you close again he started to grind his hard on right against your clothed cunt, making you moan and whine into his mouth. He left your lips to kiss along your jaw, sucking on your neck next. “Please- harder...feels so good.” You pleaded. “Fuck-” He muttered against your neck, now full on humping you like a dog, panting and cussing underneath his ragged breaths. The table was croaking and scratching the floor from the movements. Your hands held on tighter in your hair as you felt your orgasm wash over you, sudden and unknown but you never felt this amount of pleasure. As the pleasure overtook you you held your breath, his moans now becoming louder as well. “Feels good- doesn’t it pretty princess? Just wait until I fuck you on my cock.” His dirty words made you gasp and whine in response before he sadly stopped his movements. Instead he started removing your clothes, you quickly helped, once left in your undergarments and chemise he started to remove his own clothes as well, leaving him in just his breeches, the thin fabric gave you a full view of the big tent that his hard cock created. 

You couldn’t stop your hand from wanting to touch his cock, his breath hitched as your fingers touched his tip. “Does that feel good?” You asked in a seductive tone, you knew what you were doing and this newfound sinful power made you wonder what else you could do to him. “Ohh yesss.” He shuddered, “Just like that-” Your hand now fully grasped his cock moving the skin over his tip underneath the cloth. “S-stop, fuck, before you make me cum already.” Ben said with a breathy chuckle. Setting you back on the table he removed the remainder of your clothes, at the sight of your breasts he paused and couldn’t help but stare. Throwing the rest of your clothes on the floor he reached behind you and grabbed the goblet of half filled wine. “Shall we make this memorable?” He smiled mischievously. You could only nod and look at him with slight confusion, but it all became clear when he tipped the goblet over by your left breast, wine trickling down your nipple before Ben moved to lick it up and suck on the skin. You inhaled at the sensation. 

Moving to your right nipple he once again let some wine flow down your breast before he licked it up again. He kissed you once more. Then he licked your lips and sank to his knees. Your brows furrowed in confusion but you were excited for what he was about to do next. He started to kiss up your legs, kneading your thighs and hips. Your eyes rolled back at the sight before you. His head now moved between your thighs, moving the cup right above your already wet cunt he tipped it over again letting wine spill over your pussy and again he didn’t fail to lick it up. 

But this time it felt a thousand times better than your breasts. A gasp and moan left your mouth and you grabbed his head for support when he repeated the action, however this time he started to suck, lick and devour you. Putting the wine on the ground he grabbed your hips to hold you still as he went in like you were his dinner. “Gods- please- Ben!” You could never keep quiet with the way his tongue was fucking you now. And due to your sensitivity from your previous orgasm, you came undone in a matter of seconds, coating his face in your arousal. 

“Thats a good fucking girl.” He smiled leaving soft kisses on your mound before rising again. “Please, please take me. Bend me over the table and take me Ben.” You breathlessly begged. With a look of pure lust on his face he did as his princess told. Moving you off the table and turning you around he bended you over, your breasts pressing against the hard table. Hurriedly removing his breeches, he lined up his hard cock with your entrance. Using his tip to spread around your juices. “Seven hells-” He groaned as he let his tip slip inside you. You moaned and gripped the table for support as he now slowly sank into you. 

“You okay? Can I move?” He asked breathlessly. “Yes- please I’m fine- just fuck me already-” He wasted no time and grabbed your ass cheeks as he fucked into you. Gaspes, pants and moans filled the room as he pounded harder into you. He couldn’t help but slap your ass and grip it harder making you roll your eyes back in ecstasy. The table shook underneath you and now you understand why he even sent the guards outside away. 

The noises of sweaty skin slapping against each other, the moans, the cusses, the pleading, panting and creaking of the table spurred Benjicot on even more. Lifting your right leg so your knee was resting on the table as well allowed in to fuck you even deeper. His cock now fully hitting your cervix. He had to remind himself who he was fucking and that he couldn’t fill you with his cum. That became an even more difficult task as he could feel the walls of your pussy clenching around him tighter making him moan your name with each pound into you. 

Moving his fingers to your clit while thrusting into you, moaning your name against your shoulder you came with a moan of his name. Benji quickly pulled out and you turned around “On your knees.” He commanded, and you did. You had a feeling of what he wanted and opened your mouth, with a smile Ben put his leaking cock in your mouth as you started sucking. His moans became louder again and he filled your mouth, cussing as he came too, swallowing his cum he caressed your cheek before helping you up. Heavy breaths filled the room and breathy laughs from you both. He pulled you closer and you held each other for a bit.

Until you had to break the silence. “No one can know Ben.” You spoke resting your chin on his chest when you looked at him. “I know.” You shared a solemn smile before you pulled away from him reaching for your chemise on the ground. “Let me keep it.” He stammered. “Why would-” He took it from you. “Because, when you leave I’ll have something of you. And when I am lonely at night...I could relive the memory of my cock deep in your cunt.” He spoke lowly. “Okay.” You smiled, giving him a light kiss before getting dressed. Anxiety filled you as your mother must be worried by now. “I do have to leave now.” You said after Ben got dressed as well. “I know.” You kissed each other one last time before you left with your dragon, soaring through the sky as your heart hurt at the thought of not being with him.